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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175099">Of Broken Gods and Prisoners</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawgon98/pseuds/lawgon98'>lawgon98</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TES: Abridged [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant Fantasy Racism because this is Elder Scrolls, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, Elder Scrolls Lore, Existential Crises, Gen, Illustrations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Magical Bullshit, Multiple Pairings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Political Shenanigans, Slow Burn, The F word is lore friendly and it will be used at least once, altmer maormer and dunmer have expressive ears, it isn't ooc if zenimax never gave them personalities to begin with, medically accurate descriptions of corpses, no beta we die like men, very slow burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:27:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawgon98/pseuds/lawgon98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative Title: My City Now, Todd</p><p>The first installment in my rewriting of all the main-series Elder Scrolls game (and Online). In which an Altmeri Vestige stumbles his way through his predetermined role in the cosmos, despite wishing he were doing literally anything else. Can he rise to the occasion and fulfill his destiny?<br/>Yeah, probably. Not like he has a choice in the matter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TES: Abridged [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What was any of that?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                The Altmer woke up in a small, rocky prison with a spiky gate made from a strange, warped metal. He looked around, noting his cellmate, a skeleton. The air smelled of sulfur, sweat, and some sort of bitter odor that most likely shouldn’t exist but within this realm, did. Above and to the left, there was a gap in the ceiling that led out into some sort of hallway. Down said hallway, he could hear shouts and clanging and crashing.</p><p>He looked at his hands. They were boney and pale. He felt somewhere in his gut that this wasn’t right. He found a particularly reflective puddle of some kind of blue fluid far more viscous than water. The face staring back at him wasn’t his own, he knew that much. The cheeks and eyes were sunken in, with the eyes in particular having no discernable iris or pupil. It was all sclera. His hair was black and stringy. He quickly looked away as nausea and a weird sense of detachment began to settle in.</p><p>He weighed his options, and then began to try and scamper up to the gap; his long limbs did nothing to aid in this process. The elf managed to get halfway up before sliding down and falling to the floor. Not unlike a lizard trying to climb a smooth, wet surface. He attempted to use his cellmate’s bones to climb up by jabbing them into small crevices. This didn’t work either. He threw a bone out of the gap and heard a thump, then someone swear on the other side.</p><p>An absurdly tall woman with a long blonde braid and decidedly normal-looking skin and eyes stomped to the cell door, and after a short bout of verbal lashing, she broke the door down with an axe. The High Elf felt a mix of embarrassment and contempt. He hung his head and followed her as he didn’t really know what else to do and he had enough of his wits to understand that ‘prison bad’.</p><p>The following series of events more or less flew right past the Altmer’s head, one right after the other. The woman killed some horned men in spiky armor, Dremora, apparently. A ghost appeared, called him ‘Vestige’ so apparently that was his name (an excellent thing to know). Then the ghost disappeared in a cloud of what appeared to be ethereal moths and Lyris dragged him by the scruff of his neck outside. He hit a large magic eyeball with a sword he found. Then they went to a gate, a large, flaming, blue face appeared on it and yelled at them. Apparently that was bad.</p><p>Vestige didn’t understand anything.</p><p>The woman, who introduced herself three dead dremora prior though Vestige did not exactly absorb that information, kicked the gate.</p><p>“Damn it!” she shouted, “It’s warded!”</p><p>“Is that why it seemed angry at us?” Vestige asked. He was standing behind her, arms crossed. He was determined to be as mildly annoyed by all of this as possible.</p><p>“Shut up, I’m thinking!” the woman paced a moment.</p><p>“Try not to hurt yourself.”</p><p>She stopped in her tracks and slammed a fist into her palm, “That’s it! Cadwell! The old coot <em>must </em>have a way in!”</p><p>“Question…” he raised a hand, “Exactly what is it that we’re trying to break into?”</p><p>She gave him an odd look, “Did you not listen? We’re trying to save the Prophet.”</p><p>“The… glowing man from earlier, yes?”</p><p>She stared at him a moment longer before walking towards a conveniently nearby camp full of sallow skinned people with milky white eyes. Vestige took note of some of the more interesting ones. There was a woman with a cat’s face and tail walking in circles around a spiky rock, leaving footprints in the sand which bore a remarkable resemblance to what bone would look like if it was crushed up a whole bunch. A man with a long, ratty beard standing off to the side on his own, occasionally screaming at the top of his lungs for no discernable reason.  And finally a skinny man with a pot on his head singing a horribly off-key song near a campfire.</p><p>“One FINE day in the middle of the night…” the pot-head sand, “…two dead kings… got UP to fight…”</p><p>The woman approached him, “Cadwell.”</p><p>“…BACK to BACK they faced each other…”</p><p>“Cadwell!”</p><p>“…drew their bows, AAANNNDDD stabbed themselves!”</p><p>“CADWELL.”</p><p>Cadwell looked up, “Oh, Lyris my dear! Stopped by on one of your… evening strolls I take it? Lovely to see you, simply lovely.”</p><p>“Do you know a way into the Prophet’s cell?” she crossed her arms, clearly not amused by whatever this man’s entire deal was.</p><p>“Why, I do! I know all sorts of… well… back-ways and secret passages. Oh but you’ll enjoy this, it’s a scenic route. Take the river of azure plasm up into the caves, there’s a door to the right. If you hit the pit full of spikes and skeletons, you’ve gone too far. Through the door there’s a fun little jaunt through traps, fire, and undead. You know… I was planning a picnic there.”</p><p>Vestige raised an eyebrow and looked to Lyris, “Are you really going to trust a man with a pot on his head and a hat over the fire?”</p><p>Lyris looked to the soup currently boiling inside a top hat, she huffed, “One. I’m only bringing <em>you</em> along because the Prophet said you were the key to his escape. Why it’s you, a beanpole with barely enough depth to drown a woodlouse, I don’t know. So you don’t get to weigh in. Two. Cadwell’s crazier than two starved wolves going after a ham scrap, but he’s the oldest of the Shriven who hasn’t completely lost his mind. He knows his way around, and I trust him.”</p><p>The elf would have gone a bit red in the cheeks if he had blood. Did he have blood? Not worth worrying about. His cheeks felt cold, though. He learned one new thing about himself, at least. He hated being talked down at. Literally. She was far taller than him.</p><p>They made for the door after managing to escape Cadwell’s attempt at getting them to stay for dinner. Hat-soup, as delicious as it may sound, was not conducive to their current goal. Lyris attempted to break the door, which looked more like sharp metal plates that slid into each other down though it was no use. It was simply too thick. It did, however, have a lock on it.</p><p>Muscle memory took over and Vestige reached for it. He felt a tingle in his hand, and then felt cool metal bumps on each finger tip. His hand glowed orange.</p><p>“What are you-“ Lyris began.</p><p>“Shh! I think I can get it to…” Vestige’s ear twitched, he lifted a finger and heard a click inside the lock. After a little trial and error, he found the appropriate combination of finger-twitches and the door opened up.</p><p>“Damn.” Lyris sounded almost impressed, “I guess you’re not so useless after all.”</p><p>“Disappointed?”</p><p>“No. Now move.”</p><p>Vestige nodded and they proceeded. The following was a gauntlet of skeletons, spikes, and cold, blue fire. Lyris lost her eyebrows to a fire-breathing carving of a face. Vestige started to get the hang of fighting. He bummed a sword off of a dead man, which then attacked him. He was able to stab it until it stopped moving… again. Vestige did his best to ignore the adrenaline shakes and mortal terror. Lyris seemed to have no issue with those and he did not want to appear incompetent in front of her after so very nearly earning her respect.</p><p>After a grueling trek, they arrived at the Prophet’s cell. It was less a cell like the one Vestige had been in and more of a large room with a giant glowing orb that contained an old man. There was a circular dais in front of it with two floating, metal, diamond-shaped cages on either side. Lyris told Vestige to stand back and keep any daedra off of her.</p><p>He nodded and held his sword out as Lyris began to do… something. He didn’t quite understand what it was but it involved a lot of arm-waving. When she began levitating he had no time to be surprised as a dremora appeared quite literally out of thin air and rushed him.  As he fought it back, his own crummy sword barely holding on for dear life against the dremora’s far superior and far, far spikier sword, a tendril of light reached out from the orb and wrapped around Lyris.</p><p>Vestige got a cheap kick in, pushing the daedra back. Lyris was suddenly pulled into the orb and the man inside was slingshotted out the other side. He landed in a crumpled heap on the ground. Vestige looked from him to the dremora and booked it to the other side of the ‘cell’, scooped up the old man, and ran for a nearby door. This one wasn’t locked.</p><p>He dropped the old man and closed it behind him. He jammed his sword in between the metal plates. Banging was heard on the other side as the dremora tried to get through. Vestige helped the old man up.</p><p>The old man was (shock) the Prophet. He had normal, fleshy skin, like Lyris though he had the same milky eyes as Vestige.</p><p>“I had not thought freedom would come at the price of my tailbone…” he grunted as he was raised from the floor.</p><p>“What <em>was </em>any of that?!” Vestige whipped around to face him.</p><p>“A trick of the prison. To free one, another must take his place.” The Prophet waved a hand, “We have little time, Vestige. We need to escape.”</p><p>“Escape wh-“</p><p>“Back to Tamriel.” The Prophet gestured behind them, to a massive pit, above with two even more massive rings with, you guessed it, massive spikes adorning them floated idly in the ashy sky.</p><p>Vestige looked up at them, mouth agape.</p><p>“We are in Molag Bal’s realm, Coldharbour. You were killed by Molag Bal’s Worm Cultists and your soul was sent here.”</p><p>“I’m de-“</p><p>“No time. Come.” The old man walked toward the pit.</p><p>A skeletal hand burst through from the ground before he could reach his destination, knocking him back. A humanoid beast made of various bones from various different creatures crawled up and towards Vestige, stepping over the Prophet. Its head was just a skull, wreathed in blue flame. It backed him up against the door. Its face grew closer and closer to his.</p><p>“<em>Fool</em>…” a deep voice came from both it and the surrounding area, “<em>You believe you can escape Coldharbour. MY realm? I AM Coldharbour. And you… belong to me.</em>”</p><p>Vestige reached back and jerked the sword out of the door, with that motion he brought it in an arc onto the beast’s head. It reared back, skull cracked down the middle. Vestige pressed his advantage, chopping at the beast over, and over, and over, and over… His ears began to ring and his world went black as he laughed in complete and utter panic.</p><p>When he came to he was standing above a pile of bones, half of a dread dremora sat in front of the blood-soaked door. The Prophet had a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“You did well. Now come, it is time to return home.” The old man gentle led him towards the pit, he kneeled in front of it, hands outstretched in prayer, “Akatosh!” he called, “Dragon god of Time! Your humble servant calls upon you! Anoint your chosen with you blessing, and bring our wander souls home!”</p><p>Vestige’s world went white this time. He felt an all-encompassing burning sensation that started at his core and spread outward. It felt as though he was being filled with magma. He could hear a small voice, and though he could not understand what it said, he understood it to be coming from whoever this ‘Akatosh’ person the Prophet called upon. The voice was calm, cold, and distant. He felt that it regarded him as a tool, and whatever words it was trying to get across were hollow words of encouragement.</p><p>The Vestige awoke on a ratty bedroll in a dark, damp, stone room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I really, really procrastinated this chapter because I wanted to get to the stuff I actually wanted to write but this one's important so I had to do it. If it seems worse compared to later chapters, that's why Please reserve judgement until those later chapters come out; you can call me a hack then.</p><p>Sidenote, I had to go through a whole mental break down trying to get Word, which came PREINSTALLED on this laptop to work. Microsoft wanted me to make an account (which I already had) and pay to use it. I eventually downloaded Word 2007 which is honestly superior anyway in terms of... everything about it so all's well that ends well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. What's in it for me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Reasonably detailed gore, corpses, vomit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                The Vestige awoke on a ratty bedroll in a dark, damp, stone room. He was wearing new clothes. A simple blue tunic, brown pants, and sandles. They were damp. He was damp. Everything was damp and it was terrible. Vestige looked up and very nearly had a heart attack out of shock.</p><p>The ghostly visage of the Prophet stood over him. He was staring blankly at a wall just past him.</p><p>Vestige pulled himself up, he noticed that his hands were no longer sickly and ashen, but a healthy gold. He looked to the Prophet, “What happened?”</p><p>“We got separated when we were pulled through the Dark Anchor.” The Prophet’s tone was somewhat less harsh than it had been, though the difference was just barely noticeable.</p><p>“The Dark what?”</p><p>“Ah, yes, the Dark Anchor was the machine you saw. Molag Bal has hundreds of them. He uses them to ‘anchor’  Nirn to Coldharbour in a bid to merge the two planes. He wants nothing more than complete control over the realm of mortals.”</p><p>Vestige made a strained wheezing noise, then after a moment of silence, spoke, “I understood precisely nothing you just said. Are you talking about the giant floating rings in the sky?”</p><p>“Yes.” The Prophet nodded.</p><p>“Lovely. If we went in to the giant floating death rings together, how did we become separated?”</p><p>“Magic is more art and less science. The rules that do exist are… well not so much rules as they are guidelines.”</p><p>“Okay. Magic. It’s bullshit. That’s what I did with the lock.” Vestige sat on a broken crate and bounced his legs, “Magic. I can open locks with that. Kill things with swords. Got that down. I’m on Nirn. Was in Coldharbour. I heard Tamriel, what’s that?”</p><p>“Tamriel is the continent upon which we reside.”</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>“I do not know. I hear the ocean, smell cherry blossoms, and feel sand beneath my feet. I suspect I am somewhere on Auridon.”</p><p>“Auridon. Sounds vaguely familiar…” Vestige is quiet for a long moment, “Wait. Are you blind?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“…that makes all of this a whole lot easier, doesn’t it? I guess I’ll… try to find you?”</p><p>“That would be the most advisable course of action. The fate of the world rests on your shoulders, after all.”</p><p>“What, it-“ Vestige stood up as the Prophet disappeared into moths, “Damn it! Get back here! What do you mean ‘rests on my shoulders’?! You can’t just drop that on someone and bail! Un-moth yourself right this sec-”</p><p>A knock at the door interrupts him.</p><p>“Hhhnnng…” he dragged his hands down his face leaving eight reddish lines and went to open the door which swung open anyway, slamming him in the face, covering up the red lines with one big red blotch.</p><p>A bipedal cat-man with tannish-brown fur and a plume of red hair atop his head strolled in; he looked down at Vestige, “Ah! My friend! I see you’ve survived the night!”</p><p>Vestige stared blankly up at him.</p><p>“You caused quite the splash, falling from the sky into the sea as you did. Now, Raz has a few questions-“</p><p>Vestige jumped up and began barraging him with his own slew of questions, “Where am I? Who are you? Have you seen a blind old man in crummy robes? What… are you?”</p><p>The man blinked, and then laughed, “You, my slightly damp friend, are within the care of the Dominion upon the lovely island: Khenarthi’s roost. Home to many Khajiit, which I am, if that answers one of your questions, and Maormer.” He made a flourish with his clawed hands in an almost showman-like manner, “Treacherous sea-elves who wish have been at war with your own people for many, many years and hold this little island in the palm of their slightly-webbed hands. Alas, Razum-dar... that is to say, I have not seen nor heard of any blind old men about. Come, let us step outside!” he put an arm around Vestige in an aggressively friendly matter and steered him out the door, “Much better out here, is it not?”</p><p>Vestige looked around. There were dilapidated towers, sand covered in seaweed and corpses, the wreckage of several ships, and people in robes running about tending to wounded soldiers.</p><p>“No.” Vestige said, “It actually isn’t.”</p><p>Razum-dar laughed again, “Ah, such honesty! You’d do best to temper that. But yes, I did mention the sea elves, no? They brought upon a terrible, magical hurricane which decimated the Golden Fleet. The strongest navy to sail the seas! The ruins of which… you see before you.” He swung an arm out, gesturing to the carnage.</p><p>“You seem pretty upbeat for someone whose army just got wiped out...” Vestige commented dryly.</p><p>“Ah, but there is no need for old Raz to add to the gloom, my friend.” His tail twitched ever so slightly, “Now. It is my turn to question <em>you</em>. What is your name?”</p><p>“Vestige.”</p><p>“…that is a thing and not a name. And were it a name, it would not be a very good one, given its meaning.”</p><p>The Altmer’s ears burned a bit, “V- uh…” he looked around quickly, eyes settling on a body being picked at by some seabirds, “Carion.”</p><p>“Vakarion it is! Yes, that sounds rather… elf-y. It should do. Now… why is it that you fell from the sky?” Raz put a hand on Vakarion’s shoulder.</p><p>“I escaped from Coldharbour, Molag Bal wants to take over Nirn and-“</p><p>Raz cut him off, “No, no. If you speak like that and everyone will assume you to be crazy! And while crazy people have their uses, such a person would not serve our purposes, see?”</p><p>“Our… purposes?”</p><p>“Yes.” Razum-dar stepped in front of him, turning to face him, “You see, I have a very important job to do on this little island, in service of our Queen and the Dominion. However, Raz is both a Khajiit and a known, and rather important, member of the Dominion. If I may toot my own horn a moment.  You, on the other hand, are a nobody. Most here would assume you to be a foot soldier, at most. Though more likely a stowaway.”</p><p>“…you want me to do your dirty work so nobody can trace it back to you?” Vakarion raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Oh but it is not dirty work! We are all loyal members of the Dominion. Khajiit, Bosmer, and Altmer alike… It is all of our duties to do what we can in service of it. The Khajiit upon this island live under the tyranny of the sea elves, and cannot enter the safe embrace of our Dominion. You are in a unique position to help me change this.”</p><p>“What’s in it for me?”</p><p>“Ah! You seem to have no memory, but you are no fool. I can respect this.” Raz ran a whisker between two of his fingers, “Help me, and I can see if I cannot dig up these memories. The High Elves are so studious in recordkeeping, it should be of no issue.”</p><p>Vakarion considered a moment, “Alright… and what about Coldharbour becoming Nirn? Or…whatever’s happening there? I don’t really underst-”</p><p>“Razum-dar assures you that the Queen knows about the Planemeld and is doing everything in her power to combat it.” he bowed slightly, “You have this one’s word on that.”</p><p>“…final question. Why do you keep bouncing between third and first person?”</p><p>“That is simply a quirk of the Khajiit. Let me offer you a word of advice. Do not bring it up, nor should you try to touch our tails. You will make far less enemies this way.”</p><p>Vakarion nodded, “Okay… Tell me what you need me to do.”</p><p>Raz steers him in the direction of the shipwreck-covered beach, “Follow this beach to the north and send any wounded this way. You will soon come to the city of Mistral, when you arrive, meet Raz at the inn. We cannot be seen travelling together, you see.”</p><p>“Got it.” Vakarion thought, “What if I run into any sea elves?”</p><p>“Hmm… Avoid them. Or kill them if they give you a hard time.” Razum-dar patted him on the back and shoved him forward, “Hurry now! Try to be in Mistral before dark! The alits get extra hungry come twilight!”</p><p>Vakarion stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the sand, and turned around, “Wait what’s an ali-“ Raz was gone, “Stars above, would it kill everyone to stop being intentionally opaque for two bloody seconds?”</p><p>He began his walk down the beach, stepping over bits of ship and waterlogged sailor alike. It really was a brutal scene before him, but everything had been happening so fast that Vakarion didn’t really have the capacity to process it or anything else for that matter. The whiplash was enough to make his neck ache… or perhaps that was a byproduct of apparently falling from the sky.</p><p>That didn’t make sense, though. If he went through a dark anchor, it would make sense that it was… well... anchored to a specific point. Therefore, he and the old man should have come out together at that same point at the same time. Perhaps he didn’t understand the magics around it, though, so he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.</p><p>Another, more ominous thought, took its place though. After the old man was freed, it was disturbingly easy to actually leave Coldharbour. If Molag Bal WAS Coldharbour, like the disembodied voice attached to the bone monster that PRESUMABLY belonged to Molag Bal had said, then shouldn’t he have been able to stop Vakarion, someone with sub-par fighting abilities and zero experience in… anything rather easily?</p><p>He stepped on something round and not unlike a grape in consistency… The giant eye! Vakarion had forgotten about it until that moment. Lyris had told him to destroy the eye, because that would supposedly blind Molag Bal to their movements and allow them to get into the Prophet’s cell. But it didn’t work! The gate had a firey face that yelled at them and wouldn’t let them through!</p><p>Then he thought back to the Prophet’s cell… it only had two doors. One that led to the death hallway secret passage that Cadwell the Pot-Man told them about… and one that led to the Dark Anchor. There were no other passages in the area with the Dark Anchor that he could remember… Why had he been able to kill that giant bone thing so easily? Why did it ignore the old man entirely? Why was Lyris able to break down the gate to his cell but no other doors or gates during their trek? Why had he awoken exactly when Lyris was making her escape attempt?</p><p>A single thought creeped into his mind spoken by a voice that was not his own.</p><p><em>‘He wanted you to escape</em>.’</p><p>Vakarion stood still on the beach, surrounded by debris, corpses, and very happy seagulls. The wind blew salt into his hair and stinging particulates of sand onto his skin. He decided, in that moment, to bury all of those questions and thoughts and uncertainty deep, deep into his subconscious where he wouldn’t have to deal with them. Then, he continued his walk down the once presumably pleasant-to-be-on beach with a slight spring in his step and a whistle on his lips.</p><p>He found a sailor that was mostly in-tact that had washed up atop a crate pallet. She had a fairly nice steel sword that he took as she clearly wasn’t going to be using it anymore. He then came to the realization that <em>none </em>of the dead on this beach would need their equipment anymore… and it would be such a shame to let it all go to waste. It wasn’t as though anyone was <em>watching </em>either.</p><p>Vakarion kept walking, stopping occasionally to pick up a shiny bauble or something that looked useful. He even found a backpack to keep his plunder in! What fortune! He wound up with some interesting looking glowing liquid in cute, tiny bottles, perfume that had somehow survived getting wedged beneath a rock, a bow and some arrows, a decorative dagger, and several rings, necklaces, and gold coins that he was sure would come in useful at some point. His lovely stroll/graverobbery was interrupted, however, by a call for help further up the beach.</p><p>A short woman wearing armor made of leather fashioned to look like leaves stood ahead, keeping herself upright by leaning on a cart that had been flipped sideways. Large dark red spot was visible beneath a bit of exposed cloth on her side. Vakarion ran to her, a ring fell from his backpack and each of his strides was punctuated by a jingle. The woman’s nose curled up as he approached.</p><p>“Ugh… of course the only help I’d find would be a grave robber…” she looked him up and down, “An <em>Altmer </em>on top of that too…”</p><p>Vakarion was taken aback, “I’m… sorry? Firstly, they aren’t buried. Secondly what does that have to do with-“</p><p>“Look. Just- My crew. I need to- Help me find them. I know some survived. We were on the same lifeboat before it smashed up against something.” She tried to take a step, and did a wonderful job until she collapsed to her knees clutching her side.</p><p>Vakarion kneeled down beside her, “Stars… that doesn’t look good. Let me see if I-“ he began digging through the backpack.</p><p>“Looted something useful?”</p><p>“Yeah, that.” He pulled two of the tiny bottles out, “…potion.”</p><p>The woman glared up at him and snatched one, “Glowjuice. Should help. Least your thievery’s good for something.” She drank it, and then dry heaved.</p><p>Vakarion looked to the one remaining in his hand, “Does it really taste that bad?”</p><p>“Goes down like glass…” she shuddered, “Y’ffre save me… I feel my tendons knitting back together.”</p><p>“This… can do all that?” Vakarion quickly pocketed the bottle in case she asked for another.</p><p>“Are you stupid? That shite’s worth a fortune… condensed magic or something. I thought tall-ies were supposed to know all about that kind of thing.” She leaned back against the cart.</p><p>“…<em>tall-ies.</em>” Vakarion looked at her incredulously, “<em>Tall-ies.</em> Is that honest-to-gods the-” he laughed, “Oh my gosh- I’m sorry I just- <em>TALL-IES</em>?!” it was his turn to double over, though from laughter rather than a potentially mortal wound.</p><p>The woman stared at him, “Are you done?”</p><p>“No- yes- I just… I needed that. Okay. You… wanted to find your crew? I was told to help direct survivors to the camp set up south of here. There’s…” he stifled a laugh, “<em>Tall-ies</em>… anyway, there’s robes running around healing people. Whatever they’ve got probably tastes better than the Glowjuice.”</p><p>“You’re kind of an arsehole.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They stared at each other for a long while, seeing who relented first.</p><p>“Just help me find my crew.” The woman relented.</p><p>“Alright. Name’s…” Vakarion thought a moment trying to remember, “Vakarion. By the way.”</p><p>“Sergeant Firion. Dominion Marine on the Little Alkosh.”</p><p>“…what’s an Alkosh?”</p><p>“You <em>are</em> stupid.”</p><p>“Is it a bird or..?”</p><p>“Khajiiti dragon god of time?” Firion scowled, “Ring any bells?”</p><p>“Don’t you mean Akatosh?”</p><p>She went from irritated to perplexed, “Did you grow up in human lands or something?”</p><p>Vakarion was quiet a moment; he weighed his options, “…yes.”</p><p>“Well… that explains a lot. ‘Least I know you won’t try to lecture me on my poise. Come on. They’re all Bosmer and wearing uniforms like mine.” Firion started northward towards a part of the beach that was especially covered in navy bits.</p><p>Vakarion followed her. He got some new information to use at least. Altmer were like him, tall and gold in hue. Bosmer must be short and had stubbier ears compared to his. And Khajiit were cats.</p><p>The pair began searching through the wreckage. Each time Vakarion found something interesting, Firion would swat his hand before he could take it. The day grew hot as the sun climbed higher and higher in the sky. With the heat… came the <em>smell. </em>It was oddly sweet mixed with a rancid sort of scent, along with a distinctly fecal tinge. It was terrible, but the worst had not happened yet. Vakarion soon learned a very interesting fact about what happened to a corpse that lay out in the sun, stewing in its own bacteria and juices.</p><p>Bodies pop.</p><p>It was somehow both less and more dramatic than he could have ever anticipated. There was no kaboom, but it was most certainly an explosion. A build up of gas increased pressure within the organs, until… pop. The smell went from horrible to horrific. Vakarion ran to a barrel to vomit as Firion watched with mild amusement.</p><p>“It’s just meat.” She tilted her head.</p><p>He spun around, “You were just getting pissy with me for taking their stuff! Now they’re ‘just meat’?!”</p><p>She looked confused, “Yeah?”</p><p>“What is <em>wrong </em>with-“ he caught a glimpse of seagulls flocking to a recently-popped pile of viscera, he turned back to the barrel to finish what he had started.</p><p>They restarted the search once Vakarion’s stomach had been thoroughly emptied. He did not pause to wonder exactly what had come up considering he didn’t remember ever eating.</p><p>By some absolute miracle, they finally heard people-noises; a series of small grunts from under a capsized skiff. Vakarion and Firion heaved it up and off of a prone Bosmer, male this time, who was <em>even shorter </em>than Firion. He had small nubby horns on his forehead.</p><p>He looked at Firion with immense relief clear on his face, “Thank Y’ffre you’re alive! I thought I was the only one!”</p><p>Firion knelt down and helped him sit upright. His leg looked like it was dragged through a hallway of glass shards and then hit repeatedly with a hammer.</p><p>“Easy there…” Firion smiled at him, “What were you doing under that thing?”</p><p>“Gulls looked hungry… saw an alit skulking around too.” The horned-man groaned, “Gods… now I wonder if just letting them my leg off of me would have been a smarter choice.”</p><p>Firion looked up to Vakarion, “Well?”</p><p>“Well what?” Vakarion asked, pretending not to know where this was going.</p><p>“The Glowjuice.”</p><p>“…you took it, remember?”</p><p>“You had two bottles.”</p><p>“Yeah… but… there’s healers that-“</p><p>“<em>Vakarion.” </em>Her voice took on an authoritative, military tone.</p><p>Vakarion flinched and pulled out the little bottle, “Fine…” he tossed it to the horned-Bosmer who drank it gladly. He didn’t seem to mind the taste as much.</p><p>“All of the shite you stole is Dominion property anyhow. And you aren’t Dominion.” Firion glared up at him.</p><p>“I could be!” he protested, “You don’t know! The Dominion’s… big. Very big! You can’t know all of the people in it!”</p><p>“You aren’t wearing a uniform you eel-faced idiot!”</p><p>“PLAINCLOTHES.” His face was red, he caught himself and coughed, “…that is to say… uniforms aren’t attached to your skin.”</p><p>“Stop trying to bullshit me. Besides. If you <em>were </em>a soldier, you’d be in even more trouble for stealing Dominion property.” She helped the freshly-healed Bosmer stand.</p><p>“Yeah… well…” Vakarion muttered something about her face under his breath.</p><p>“Come on you two, let’s see if we can’t find anyone else.” Firion started down the beach yet again. The two men followed her.</p><p>Vakarion walked with his shoulders raised nearly past his ears and his head sunk low. He did his best to ignore the squawking of gulls and the occasional distant <em>pop.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Forgive my aggressive misuse, abuse, and overuse of the comma. </p><p>Shooting for a chapter a day until May! Don't hold me to that. Or do. I'm not a cop.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. And he was far from royalty.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ESO made me mad with how it depicted Summerset in terms of like...<br/>Architecture and scale. And a lot of other things.</p><p>So I changed it.<br/>My city now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Ostentatiously tall, crystalline buildings that refracted light into near-blinding rainbows as the sun travelled across the sky. White marble streets didn’t help matters, Light. Light. Far too much light.</p><p>Syndiel sat on his balcony. His family was among the nobility, which was a death sentence to Syndiel. Not the constant eyes on him. Not the perfectionism. Not the rules and laws and constrains. But the boredom.</p><p>In between being shuffled between schools and parties, there was really nothing for Syndiel to <em>do. </em>Had he been a socialite, maybe he’d have been invited to hunts or those secret parties where people dance in illegal and immoral ways. Syndiel was no socialite though, finding the company of people in general, but specifically people so engrossed in the political games of Summerset that they couldn’t tell their ass from their front, incredibly boring.</p><p>He was young, especially by elven standards. Pale blonde hair and golden eyes, and a little on the short side; genetically fine by the standards imposed upon the nobility, but nothing to be amazed by. In all honesty, he was lucky to be alive. Had he been born with any deformity, however small, or a nose too small, or hair too dark… anything from the golden perfection high society strove for… he would have been discarded.</p><p>There was a freedom in being lowborn. Although Alaxon, the school of thought that demanded all of these things, permeated every facet of Altmeri society, the nobility was shackled to it, whereas lower classes were merely led along by a leash. Syndiel wished he was a Direnni. They were smart enough to leave the Isles.</p><p>Syndiel looked out across the bay. On the horizon was another crystalline structure, though far more ancient than even the city of Alinor in which he resided and his family lived for centuries. In fact, this tower’s architecture was what directly inspired the city’s. The Crystal Tower. Home of the Sapiarchs, a club of smart people who did smart people things. Such as deciding the laws on table settings. That was Syndiel’s definition, at least. And his perspectives really should be taken with a grain of salt.</p><p>The Tower itself, though… every time Syndiel looked out at it he would feel a deep  mix of awe and foreboding deep in the core of his being. He was far from magically inept, and had a particular sense for… well… sensing it. There was something grand, important, and ancient about the structure. Now THAT, was the kind of thing he needed to cure his boredom. Unfortunately, if he wanted to step foot inside he would need to be either a Sapiarch himself, or royalty.</p><p>And he was <em>far </em>from royalty.</p><p>Now that was another subject matter that irritated Syndiel to no end. He absolutely hated the royal family, particularly the current Ass-in-Throne, Queen Ayrenn. Hypocrite that she was, though again, that was merely Syndiel’s opinion. That train of thought got cut off by a maid who, quite rudely, shoved Syndiel out of his chair so that she could clean the upholstery.</p><p>Syndiel used to be treated with about the same respect as the rest of his family, up until he reached his teen years. It was about then when he developed an unfortunate habit of voicing his opinions. That sort of thing was considered normal for a growing Altmer, teen rebellion and all that, but his habit persisted well into adulthood.</p><p>It came to a head at a funeral. To make a long story short, Syndiel and his father, a Kinlord, had a rather public argument. A loud argument. Alinor gossip being what it was, the story made the rounds twice before they even made it home. Embarrassed beyond all belief, his father gave the order to everyone in their House to give Syndiel no mind until he apologized for his transgressions. The servants, of course, jumped at the opportunity to be rude to a noble.</p><p>Unfortunately for the Kinlord, Syndiel inherited his stubbornness.</p><p>It had been almost a year, and Syndiel had no intentions of relenting. Each day merely served to steel his resolve. It was a war of attrition, and both parties had the single most important thing on the line. Pride.</p><p>He looked back out to the horizon. Firey colors began to replace the bright blue of the sky. The sun was setting and his neighbor’s house refracted the light directly into his eyes. Damn it.</p><p>Syndiel waited for the maid to finish, made sure the coast was clear, and made for a trellis. He shimmied down it, tiptoed across a gutter, and then slid down a rooftop. After that, it was just a simple alteration spell to cushion his fall into the alley below. By this point, the route was engrained into instinct. He could, and had, taken it with his eyes closed.</p><p>He made his way down towards the docks, being very careful to avoid heavily-trodden paths, mostly sticking to alleys. It was safe to do so in the upper levels of the city, but the further down he went, it would become slightly more dangerous as you’d have the odd idiot, usually young nobles themselves, with a knife trying to play at criminal. The actual criminals were smart enough not to resort to petty theft in the city itself for the sole reason that if they were unfortunate enough to mug a Highborn… well needless to say, they might as well have just thrown themselves off a roof. It’d be less painful.</p><p>Perhaps there were a <em>few</em> perks to being born into nobility.</p><p>The docks were massive and sprawling. They had to be as this was the single port on the main island that was open to the outside world. Syndiel always thought it was stupid of them to put them here instead of on the side of the island that actually faced mainland and the smaller island of Auridon, but what did he know?</p><p>This place was a haven of sorts for him. There were the city guard and the Divine Prosecution poking their noses into every possible crevice, looking for anything that could be considered even remotely illegal, sure… but Syndiel was the furthest thing from threatening or immodest in terms of looks. He gave of an air of helplessness at the best of times, full-on impotence at the worst. He purposefully amplified this view others had of him by dressing in plain, baggy robes to make himself look even smaller and harmless. As such, he could more or less wander around without anyone even noticing him half of the time. So long as he stayed out of the way.</p><p>Something blindsided him as he was making his rounds. A sudden, powerful resonance of magic that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was oppressive and dark, and it felt like it punched him in the face. Syndiel looked around, ears perked up and skin a shade lighter. He saw a small rowboat in the same direction hidden between two massive galleons.</p><p>Two figures cloaked in purple were passing something wrapped in cheesecloth to a man with black hair. Syndiel tilted his head and took a step forward when he was blindsided by something physical. A plank of wood struck him in the back of his head and sent him flying forward towards the rowboat. The man ran and the two in purple rushed to drag Syndiel into the rowboat. One put their hand over his mouth as the other began rowing.</p><p>Syndiel was concussed and therefore unable to cast spells. His panicked captors weaved in between ships, avoiding the eyes of the law peppered throughout the docks with practiced precision. Syndiel noticed a dagger at the hip of the woman gagging him.</p><p>He played possum, going limp in the woman’s arms. When she released her grip, he made for the dagger.</p><p>This didn’t work, as the other person brought an oar down on his head. He was knocked clean unconscious this time. The pair rowed further into the maze of boats, and dragged him onto a lower dock adjacent to a small merchant’s ship. They dumped him in a crate of silks, sealed it up, and skedaddled.</p><p>When Syndiel awoke, the ship was already halfway to Auridon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My 'Every day until May' thing is going to be harder than I thought for the pure and simple reason that my sinuses take infrequent attempts on my life. That's hyperbole, but they do hurt a lot due to allergies and fluctuations in barometric pressure. Honestly a weather station should just call me each morning and if I have headache then they've got an early warning of a high-pressure system.</p><p>Anyway, I wrote this while listening to edgy Spongebob theories.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I am going to go insane.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Gore, giant snake, copious amounts of corpses, fantasy drugs</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion wasn’t exactly sure <em>how </em>he wound up in this cave, knee-high in desiccated corpses. They looked like they’d been rapidly mummified, all of the moisture sucked out of them instantly, skin thin and leathery. In the center of the cave was a single body, Bosmer, that hadn’t been exsanguinated. Lieutenant Gelin, or what he left behind when he was ejected from this mortal coil.</p><p>Though his body most certainly still had blood in it, it was not exempt from the ritual that defiles the others surrounding it. The skin was covered in small cuts that formed swirling patterns smeared with blood that intermingled with sickly green foam that a<em>lmost </em>looked like seafoam, but had a much stickier consistency. The cuts almost seemed to move like waves, flowing and warping the longer Vakarion stared at them.</p><p>He took a step backwards and heard a hiss. Some of the corpses shifted slightly as something moved beneath them. Vakarion drew his sword and backed against a stone wall, watching the slight bulge move around the cave displacing bodies.</p><p>He blinked and a massive snake head burst from below. It devoured Gelin. Vakarion began inching his was around the chamber towards the entrance, back still pressed to the wall. He kept his eyes on the snake, though he could only barely stomach it.</p><p>The beast froze as Vakarion stepped on a fairly delicate skull, crushing it unintentionally. The quiet but deafening ‘snap’ lightly echoed through the cave. The snake turned its head towards him, inky black tongue flicking at the air.</p><p>It slithered toward him in an almost lazy manner. To Vakarion it felt as though it was taunting him, though in reality it was simply full. Vakarion glanced toward his mistake and made a break for it. He could hear the snake behind him snap at his ankles as it pursued him.</p><p> </p><p>Outside, Firion stood with the rest of her injured crewmates. She hadn’t been able to convince the Altmer to let her look through his bag for more Glowjuice, but it was just as well. There was only a broken arm, scrapes, and some minor bruising. The supposed healers the High Elf had told her about would be able to fix them up in no time.</p><p>She heard a shout from inside the cave, and had barely enough time to react as Vakarion plowed into her, a massive sea serpent hot on his tail.</p><p>Vakarion barely registered the fact he ran over her, “MOVE! GO! EVERYONE RUN!”</p><p>Firion had no say in the matter as her crew followed the panicked mer. Rookies. She ran after them, not wanting to tangle with the serpent on her own. Rather… she <em>wanted</em> to but was smart enough to know the odds were not in her favor.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion saw a mostly-in-tact ship ahead. There were even alive people on it! Score! He ran up to it, gaggle of Bosmer and giant snake in tow. He waved his arms as he approached, and the next thing he knew, all of Oblivion broke loose.</p><p>A cannon was fired, people were screaming, yelling, and otherwise making a lot of noise. Vakarion himself tripped over something and got a mouthful of sand for his troubles. He glanced up over his shoulder at one point and saw Firion on the snake’s back chopping away at its neck with a handaxe. Another cannon shot. Cheers. It was dead.</p><p>Vakarion got yelled at by both the Sergeant and a new person. Oblan, quartermaster of the Broadhead, which seemed to be one of only a handful of ships that survived the hurricane. Vakarion tuned out for most of the berating, mentally projecting his mind somewhere into the void. He was snapped back to reality when Firion and Oblan began arguing.</p><p>“Privateers! Of all the luck! First this thief and now glorified pirates!” Firion threw her hands into the air.</p><p>“Firstly, short one. We are no pirates, pirates do not have bosses and your Queen oh-so-generously hired us. Secondly, if you did not want to sail with privateers, perhaps you should have asked to be put on another assignment, hm?”</p><p>Vakarion butted in, “I thought this was the ‘Golden Fleet’ or some shite. Like a… navy sort of deal.”</p><p>“It is!” Firion hastily said.</p><p>“It is… part of it. The head ship and some of her flanks at least. The rest was substituted with us lowly privateers. Must have cost a fortune, in all honesty.”</p><p>Firion looked as though she wanted to strangle the Khajiit.</p><p>Vakarion was glad that it was not directed at him this time. So glad, in fact, he decided not to question any further, “…so either of you know the way to Mistral?”</p><p>“North, just follow the beach.” Oblan pointed in that direction, “You’ll have to skirt around some cliffs, but you’ll get there in due time.”</p><p>A Khajiiti woman approached from the Broadhead, “Oblan! You send away potential help?”</p><p>Oblan looked to Vakarion, then to the woman, and tilted his head, “No?”</p><p>“Ha! You kid. Yes the tall one ran from the snake but perhaps he can-“ she, and everyone else present turned to see Vakarion already walking in the direction of Mistral, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”</p><p>“Away!” Vakarion called back, “Whatever it is you want me to do, I am positive you can handle it yourselves! Good luck!”</p><p>He started running soon after that, the sun was setting and he had express orders to be at ‘the inn’ before nightfall. Plus he really didn’t want to eventually screw up and get reprimanded. Again. He skirted around the cliffs Oblan had mentioned, narrowly avoiding a mudcrab. Really, he wouldn’t have been able to help with whatever it is they wanted him for anyway. In all likelihood they just needed live bait. And he wasn’t about to start a habit of being used.</p><p>He arrived in Mistral at the precise moment the sun dipped beneath the horizon. It was a vibrant city, lush with foliage, and the scent of spice was heavy on the air. The buildings were in the traditional southern Khajiiti style, raised high on stilts in case of flooding, and built on the city’s foundations which were also raised high. Very high. There were stairs, ramps, and bridges everywhere he looked. Vakarion walked through a marketplace after scaling a frankly obscene amount of stairs to get there. His stomach growled and he stopped at a small stall with a grill.</p><p>Smoke billowed out into the night, occasionally slapping Vakarion in the face as the winds shifted. It smelled… sweet? A sweetness that cut through the otherwise spicy air. He approached.</p><p>“What… is this?” Vakarion asked the vendor.</p><p>Her ears perked up, “Ah! Yes! You my friend have excellent olfactories!” she spoke in exaggerated tone, “Tsulani serves only the finest of muttons, marinated in only the finest of moon sugars!”</p><p>“Moon… what?”</p><p>A look of complete disgust, shock, and anger crossed her face for a split second before she slipped back into her merchant persona, “Worry not, my Altmeri patron! Tsulani will educate you. Moon sugar is a sacred spice, yes, very, very important! It comes from the gods themselves! Pure, lunar essence in edible form!”</p><p>Vakarion looked up to the moons, then to the meat sizzling on the grill, “I’m not sure I follow.”</p><p>“Oh! Do you believe it to be a drug?!” she got defensive, the twisted expression returning in full force, “Are you with the Thalmor?! Well tell them that Tsulani’s business is perfectly legal! Tell them that moon sugar is NOT skooma! It is no drug!”</p><p>“Slow down! What’s a Thalmor? Why would someone cook food in a drug?” Vakarion raised his hands, “I don’t- I’m from human lands.”</p><p>She calmed down instantly, “Oh, yes. Tsulani apologizes. She has heard that those further North are not so- forgive this one. Though her paranoia is justified. Yes.” Her tail bristled, she scratched her chin, “Do you wish to purchase anything?”</p><p>“…you know what. I’m going to keep looking around. Thanks.” Vakarion ducked away before things could get any more mortifying.</p><p>As he walked through the marketplace, he noticed more and more khajiit selling food absolutely smothered with moon sugar, the spicy smell from earlier had all but vanished. Moon sugar pies, moon sugar sweetmeats, moon sugar regular meat, moon sugar pickled beets, moon sugar noodles, moon sugar candied yams… Vakarion wondered how these people’s teeth weren’t rotting out of their heads until he saw a beggar who possessed exactly one tooth and a stall selling special ‘fang-cream’. All became pretty clear in that moment.</p><p> Vakarion eventually found a stall selling plain, regular fruit and purchased some weird yellow curvy ones that came in a bunch. Unfortunately, even they were sweet. He thought back to the sweet corpse-stink from earlier. He forced them down regardless and proceeded to the inn after asking directions. He held the fruit down with every ounce of willpower he had.</p><p>Razum-dar was sitting at a bar built beneath the inn. Vakarion trudged up to the seat next to him and slumped into the chair.</p><p>“Ah, my friend! Do try to look a bit less conspicuous.” Raz pat him on the back, “And much less… down-in-the-dumps. Such a mood can spread easily to others.”</p><p>“I waded through dead bodies to get here to find out that everything is coated in sugar.” Vakarion grumbled.</p><p>“<em>Moon</em> sugar.” Raz corrected, “It is a spice.”</p><p>“Is it sweet?”</p><p>“Then how is it a spice?”</p><p>“Not all spices are spicy!”</p><p>“But it’s in the name! Is regular sugar a spice too?”</p><p>“It can be used as one would use a spice.”</p><p>“What makes this stuff so special, then?”</p><p>“Well…” Raz thought, “It is sacred for one thing.”</p><p>“So sacred it’s slathered on everything?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>Vakarion paused, “I think we have different stances on what sacred means.”</p><p>“Oh, most likely. Two, it has additional effects that regular cane sugar does not.”</p><p>“Additional effects?”</p><p>“Yes! It has soporific effects, analgesic effects, narcotic effects and sometimes hallucinogenic effects! Many of them!”</p><p>“Heh… anal.” Vakarion paused, “Wait, a woman in the market said it wasn’t a drug.”</p><p>“Oh, it isn’t. You are thinking of skooma. The distilled, addictive form of moon sugar.”</p><p>“You just described- Wait. Are we classifying ‘drug’ as something that has mind-altering affects or something that has mind-altering affects and is also addictive?”</p><p>“Typically people go with the second definition.”</p><p>“So moon sugar isn’t addictive?”</p><p>“No, it is. Especially to non-Khajiit.”</p><p>Vakarion nearly burst a blood vessel; he raised his hands in surrender, “Okay. You know what, cultural differences or something. I don’t care. Is there <em>anything </em>that I can eat that won’t put me into a trance?”</p><p>“Hm…” Raz tapped his chin, “Have you perhaps been to the fruit-seller?”</p><p>Vakarion was quiet for a long while, “I am going to go insane.”</p><p>“Try not to. I still need you to do something.”</p><p>“Yes, please for the love of all that is good in this world, give me a distraction.”</p><p>Razum-dar reached into his pocket and flipped a coin at Vakarion who fumbled it. It bounced from one hand to another and did a graceful pirouette over his head before he leaned back, falling out of his chair, to catch it. It landed in his outstretched palm and he jumped up with an ‘Aha!’ holding the coin out for his companion to see.</p><p>Raz clapped sarcastically, “You possess feline grace that rivals Rahjin himself.”</p><p>Vakarion bowed with a flourish, “I <em>do</em> try oh so hard.”</p><p>“I booked you a room. Tomorrow morning, head up to the Headwoman’s house and show that to the Silvenar. He’ll know what to do.” Raz stretched, “As for myself? I have some work to do before I get the luxury of sleep.”</p><p>“Alright. Do I just head up..?” Vakarion gestured to yet another set of stairs.</p><p>Raz nodded.</p><p>“Aye!” Vakarion turned on his heel, “Wait, where do I meet you when-“ he looked over his shoulder.</p><p>Razum-dar was gone.</p><p>“…he’s magic.” Vakarion huffs and heads up to the inn proper, “Only explanation.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Due to like... the sheer volume of this thing my process has been 1) Pump a chapter out, then 2) Reread + Edit, then 3) Post. Once the whole thing's done... and I do mean like, the WHOLE damn thing then I think I might revisit chapters and give them a proper polishing. </p><p>Sidenote, notice how this is part 1 in a series? Well that series is gonna span from ESO up to Skyrim. This is a labor of love-hate. </p><p>Another sidenote, I want to duel Michael Kirkbride.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. How long is this going to take?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Drugs</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion managed to gain access to his inn room after a lengthy process of trying to convince the innkeep that…</p><ol>
<li>He was not lying</li>
<li>He was not a Maormer spy</li>
<li>He was not a Dominion spy</li>
<li>He was not a Thalmor spy</li>
<li>He was not a ‘Moon Bandit’ spy</li>
</ol><p>On the subject of Maormer, Vakarion also had his first encounter with some. He had almost mistaken one for a Soul Shriven, what with their milky eyes. The skin was all wrong though. As opposed to the thing, sickly texture of a Shriven, Maormer had healthy, incredibly moist skin that ranged from amphibian-like to jellyfish-like. Not so limpid, in the latter’s case, but almost.</p><p>Vakarion caught himself staring at one of the more jellyfish-esque ones in a group relaxing and boozing in the communal area. It was mesmerizing watching barely-visible muscles shift and blood pump rhythmically throughout. Just as he looked away, one of the Maormer in the group got up and stomped to him.</p><p>“You’ve got a lot of nerve, there! Ogling my friend like that!” he was as tall, if not a little taller than Vakarion and had opaque, blue-gray skin, “Think you can just waltz in here like you own the place?!” he drunkenly shoved Vakarion.</p><p>Vakarion was pushed back slightly, dear gods he could smell the cheap rum from where he was standing, “I’m just going to… go. Sorry.”</p><p>“Yoooouuu… don’t get to-“ the man’s eyes went wide and he ran to a nearby flowerpot to hurl.</p><p>Another Maormer got up, this time the one Vakarion had been staring at, “He’s right! You golden arseholes- you- you just come in with your big… stupid boats. They aren’t even good boats! They’re shit! You’re shit! I bet you think you shit gold!” he swayed, “Well… you DON’T! How does THAT feel?”</p><p>Vakarion blinked, THESE were the horrifically evil tyrants Raz mentioned?</p><p>“You… don’t seem too threatening.” He slapped his forehead, wishing he had kept that thought to himself. In his defense it had been a long day.</p><p>The rest of the group joined in the heckling, none of them got any rougher than a sloppy shove or drunken attempt at a punch, but they were persistent. It took a good twenty minutes to worm his way through them, and a good fifteen minutes to shut the door to his room without catching any limbs in it. He sat on his bed, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it.</p><p>When he set the pillow down he heard a knock at his window.</p><p>“Ignore it…” Vakarion laid down, trying to ignore it.</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>“I’m not interested!” he called.</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>“Go awaaayyy! I’m asleep!”</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock-</em>
</p><p>“FINE!” Vakarion got up and opened the window, “What do you want?!”</p><p>An Altmer in white, Khajiiti garb and a cowl with cat ears was perched on his windowsill, “You! Yes… you are new! Just as this one suspected!” he jumped inside, “Allow Hinaamo to introduce himself… This one is a crusader! An agent of justice! Student of the Two-Moons-Dance! Enemy to those who would poison the innocent with their foul intentions!”</p><p>Vakarion blanched. He tried to think of something to say, but no words could save him now.</p><p>“You are new… and so, uncorrupted by this island’s foul foulness!” Hinaamo continued, “He also overheard your disdain of moon sugar. This gave Hinaamo pause… ‘Surely this is a fluke, surely this newcomer is just stupid’, and it seemed so! But! That was part of your cover, was it not? Feigning ignorance so your ideas could be spoken freely beneath a guise of ignorance? A clever ruse… and one Hinaamo wishes he had thought of sooner!”</p><p>“…<em>yeeesss</em>?” Vakarion stepped away from the crazy person, hand slooowwwlllyyy creeping towards his sword.</p><p>Hinaamo jumped forward, hands placed on Vakarion’s shoulders and stars in his eyes, “Then you can help this one! The Crosstrees! Yes, the Crosstrees! They bring the foulest of poisons, skooma, to this tiny island, extort farmers… they even killed Hinaamo’s beautiful wife!”</p><p>“I’m… sorry?”</p><p>“The greatest of tragedies, yes. This is why Hinaamo swore revenge! He swore that he would ensure that no one should suffer a fate such as his!” he let Vakarion go and began pacing back and forth in front of him, “Now… this one knows of two of the rogues within this very city! Walking as common people! Wolves in sheep’s clothing! But they are no wolves.He sees them in the markets, hears their words. Intentions hidden behind a wall of euphemisms! One is an Altmer woman, pretty as a flower… and with just as many thorns! The other is an old, fat Khajiit. He hides his evil behind smiles and… jolly-ness!”</p><p>“Joviality?”</p><p>“Yes, that! See? You are already shaping up to be the perfect partner in Hinaamo’s quest!”</p><p>“Look, I just got here and-“</p><p>Hinaamo put a finger to Vakarion’s lips, “Shhh… There is no need to explain yourself! Now come! The fiends are to meet this very night!” he grabbed Vakarion’s arm, and threw down a smokebomb.</p><p>Vakarion coughed and tried to wave the smoke away from his face, when it cleared, he was standing with Hinaamo on a ledge overlooking a bridge. The ledge was covered in vines and a cat- small and quadrupedal- yowled and ran away.</p><p>“WHAT DID YOU-“ Vakarion started, but Hinaamo clamped a hand over his mouth. He exhaled through his nose and decided to just go with it.</p><p>“Quiet! This is a stakeout!” Hinaamo pointed to the bridge, “Beneath there! The conduct their foul meetings, selling their poisons and recruiting the foolish into their fold!”</p><p>Vakarion removed the hand from his mouth, “Who are the Crosstree bandits, anyway?”</p><p>“Ahh… Hinaamo is glad you asked. You see… many years ago when the Imperials were not exploded by Molag Bal, a small group of Legion deserters made their way here, they teamed up with local ruffians and began a smuggling ring. It started out simple, yes… Exotic spices, wares, and other things with a high tariff! But then they discovered that it was far more lucrative to smuggle drugs! Then… when the Planemeld and the Three-Banners war began, it became more expensive to smuggle these foreign poisons. And so… what is it that is grown on this island in droves?”</p><p>“…moon sugar?”</p><p>“Precisely! And what is moon sugar made into?”</p><p>“Everything?”</p><p>Hinaamo lightly smacked the back of his head, “<em>Distilled</em> into.”</p><p>“Ow…” Vakarion rubbed the spot he was struck in, “Skooma?”</p><p>“Yes! Skooma! The foulest substance known to this world! It tears apart families! Ruins lives!”</p><p>“…wait, Three-Banners w-“</p><p>“Shhh!” Hinaamo pulled Vakarion to the ground and pointed at the bridge, “Someone approaches.”</p><p>An Altmeri woman strolled across the bridge. She was wearing a white flowing dress and a dark blue cloak and her hair was tied back in a messy bun. She stopped in the middle of the bridge and leaned against a railing, looking out to the sea.</p><p>Vakarion and Hinaamo watched her in silence for a good five minutes. Or maybe it was one.</p><p>“How long is this going to take?” Vakarion whispered.</p><p>“As long as it needs to.”</p><p>Vakarion pressed his lips into a thin line and slowly rested his forehead on the ground.</p><p>An hour, or maybe thirty minutes, maybe even <em>two </em>hours- Vakarion did not know- passed. He might have dozed off for a moment. He looked back out at the bridge and saw… the woman standing alone on the bridge.</p><p>Vakarion glanced to Hinaamo. He had fallen asleep. Vakarion nudged him and he awoke with a snort.</p><p>“What? Did she-“</p><p>“No.” it was Vakarion’s turn to cut someone off, “Nothing’s happened.”</p><p>“Blasted evil… why must it walk the late night instead of a more reasonable hour?”</p><p>“Probably has something to do with the illegality aspect.”</p><p>“Hmmph.”</p><p>“Hey. I’ve got something to ask…“ Vakarion paused, <em>can’t arouse suspicion, pretend like you already know</em>, “Any news on the-“ <em>he said Banners,</em> “Banners?”</p><p>“Hm? Well all three sides are still going at it in Cyrodiil. Nobody’s gotten through to the Ruby Throne though. Too many Daedra.” Hinaamo answered offhandedly.</p><p>Success! He made it through without looking stupid!</p><p>“Think anyone’s made it close?” Vakarion pressed.</p><p>“The Daedra… are even fouler than mortal poisons. This one highly doubts-“ Hinaamo suddenly grabbed Vakarion’s shoulder, “Look! There!”</p><p>“Where?” Vakarion looked around.</p><p>“Beneath the bridge!”</p><p>Vakarion narrowed his eyes; he saw some movement beneath the bridge, barely visible amongst the shadows. A faint glint of light reflected off some armor, the swaying of a tail. A Khajiiti woman with a large messy mane with interspersed braids leaned against one of the support beams holding the bridge up.</p><p>“Recognize her?” Vakarion asked.</p><p>“That’s the captain of the guard…” Hinaamo whispered, all traces of ham temporarily and completely removed from his voice.</p><p>“Oh shit. Maybe she’s just… out on patrol?”</p><p>“Beneath a bridge where known skooma-peddlars have frequented, in the middle of the night, alone?”</p><p>“Maybe she’s doing what we’re doing?”</p><p>“Perhaps… but Hinaamo reiterates. <em>Alone?</em>”</p><p>“Out on a midnight stroll?”</p><p>“In her uniform. Armed.”</p><p>“…well I guess we’ll find out. Though if you can bag a corrupt government official on top of the uh… Crops-tee bandits, wouldn’t that be double good?” Vakarion shrugged, then paused trying to parse exactly what had come out of his own mouth.</p><p>“You do not understand. That is Headwoman Harani’s right-hand woman. If s<em>he’s</em> corrupt then the whole bloody system might be!”</p><p>“Well, you won’t be bored, eh?” Vakarion clapped Hinaamo on the shoulder.</p><p>They looked back out to the bridge. A portly Khajiit walked over it, stopping to chat with the Altmer. The guard captain ducked into the shadows, very nearly vanishing despite her armor. Maybe that was how Razum-dar did it? Or maybe she was magic. Further investigation was required.</p><p>The two atop the bridge talked a while. A long while. Time started to make less and less sense to Vakarion as he waited for them to do something. He started drumming his fingers on the ledge. Some movement caught his eye, a large rat was gnawing on a scrap of leather nearby.</p><p>It gnawed and gnawed and gnawed… Vakarion glanced back to the bridge. They were still talking. Still talking. Still… talking. He looked up to the sky, the moons were directly above. He stared at them; one was maybe three times the size of the other and red. The smaller was whitish. Both had odd craters and discoloration. Vakarion wondered what had struck them.</p><p>The longer he stared, the bigger a tightness began to form in the back of his throat. The feeling was somewhat similar to the embarrassment when he had been reprimanded… multiple times, but deeper and heavier. The craters began to morph, expand, and shrink at random. The tightness spread down to his chest and his heart began beating in his ears.</p><p>Vakarion couldn’t look away. The moons grew larger, and larger, taking up most of his field of vision. They disintegrated down to their component colors as his ears began to ring. Red on white-green stone, staining it. A muffled voice was speaking to him, it was familiar but he couldn’t make it out. It sounded upset. The red was seeping into the stone. The ground beneath him fell out from under him. He was floating now. An endless sea of nothingness, waves of antimatter lapping at him, threatening to swallow him whole. Something watched him from below with disdain.</p><p>Hinaamo poked his cheek. Vakarion was lying on his back.</p><p>“Wake up! We’re going to make our move!” Hinaamo whisper-shouted, “What happened?”</p><p>“I feel sad.” Vakarion blinked, shook his head, and sat upright. He shoved whatever in Oblivion that was back into the place he was keeping Coldharbour in, “I think they put moon sugar in the fruit too.”</p><p>“Do you think so? The fiends…” Hinaamo sighed dramatically, “Look! The two bandits have gone below!”</p><p>“Right, what’s the plan?”</p><p>“We capture them and make them tell us what they know!” Hinaamo started scaling his way down the ledge.</p><p>“Great. I’ll break their kneecaps.” Vakarion followed, “Hey what about that smoke trick?”</p><p>“Save the kneecap breaking for emergencies!” Hinaamo hopped onto the sandy ground below, “And I only had the one. It takes many much magic to create them!”</p><p>“I’m flattered you used it on me, then…” Vakarion said sarcastically as he dropped beside him, “You’ll have to show me how to make them after this is all done.”</p><p>“Hinaamo would be happy to! Now come!” he took off into the night.</p><p>Vakarion sighed and ran after him, kicking up sand as he went. He heard a slight metallic clink as they passed beneath the bridge, but he ignored it. At about the time Vakarion’s lungs began to burn Hinaamo held an arm out and clotheslined him. Vakariom grunted as he fell to the ground.</p><p>“Ass…” he mumbled.</p><p>“Shh! Look!” Hinaamo pulled him up and peeked around the corner, “Hinaamo is going to go around and pounce upon them! You rush in when he gives you the signal.”</p><p>“What’s the signal?”</p><p>“Hinaamo pouncing upon the bandits.”</p><p>“Good signal. Okay, whatever. I’ll be here.”</p><p>Hinaamo climbed up a rock and disappeared into some bushes. Vakarion looked around the corner, and immediately wished he didn’t. Nothing can prepare a person to see someone with regular lips locking them with someone with a muzzle. It wasn’t dispassionate either. Vakarion pulled back to gag when he felt a sword press against his throat.</p><p>He swore under his breath.</p><p>“Rahiba has some questions for you regarding our mutual friend.” The guard captain whispered into his ear, “Cooperate… and you may walk away from this with clean hands and conscience.”</p><p>Vakarion nodded slightly and the sword was removed, he turned to face her.</p><p>“You were with the madman known as Hinaamo, correct? He had you believing that those two were Crosstree bandits? That there was skooma on the wind?” Rahiba sheathed her sword and crossed her arms.</p><p>“More or less.” Vakarion shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Though ‘believe’ is a strong word.”</p><p>“The tall one is sane, then. Rahiba is willing to believe that you were roped into this matter unknowingly. Did Hinaamo tell you his plans?”</p><p>“Aye. He’s going to ‘pounce’ on the two lovebirds out there.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>“Yes, though Hinaamo is dangerous and has been causing a stir lately with his ravings… he has not done anything <em>illegal</em> per se…”</p><p>“So him assaulting two random people gives you enough grounds to make an arrest without upsetting anyone?” Vakarion tilted his head.</p><p>“Indeed! Smart and sane! A rarity these days.”</p><p>Vakarion’s ego was inflated just a bit.</p><p>“But yes.” Rahiba continued, “She needs you to climb back up the way you came, find a guardsman, and tell him ‘the bird has landed’. Do this and Rahiba will owe you a favor, a most valuable commodity.”</p><p>“…so just to make sure we’re on the exact same page, Hinaamo is crazy and the two people swapping interspecies spit just around the corner are not bandits.”</p><p>“Hinaamo is mad, yes. Ever since his wife died of an overdose, he sees skooma everywhere. Much like how one who has survived a plague sees illness in all aspects of life after the fact. It is tragic, but he cannot be allowed to remain a danger.” She pauses, “Rahiba has no evidence that those two are any more bandits than Rahiba is.”</p><p>Vakarion’s brow furrowed a bit at that last statement. On one hand, Hinaamo HAD pulled him from his inn room and dragged him out here to aid in his revenge quest against a group of bandits that he hadn’t even heard of. On the other hand, his information about the two meeting <em>was</em> correct, so perhaps there was some validity to his claims. Plus Rahiba’s wording there was suspect. On another hand, maybe he was just stalking some random couple. Back to the second hand, Vakarion really wanted some of those smoke bombs. Yet another hand appeared and slapped him in the face.</p><p>If Vakarion went with Hinaamo’s plan, he would piss off Rahiba, right hand of the woman whose house he had to get into tomorrow. Not to mention he would <em>probably</em> be branded a criminal and thrown in jail, regardless of if Hinaamo was right or not.</p><p>Vakarion agreed to help Rahiba and started back up towards the city proper. He found a guard, and told him what Rahiba had told him to say. The guard thanked him, and left without another word. Vakarion found a seat on some crates. He saw several guards run past and down to the beach.</p><p>Shouting, a woman’s scream, and then silence.</p><p>Vakarion felt nauseated.</p><p>After a while, the sound of people in armor marching. He could barely make out the top of several Khajiit heads marching back towards his spot, so he ducked behind some scrap wood that was piled against a nearby shed.</p><p>He watched the guards march back up, Hinaamo in tow. Rahiba was behind them, alongside the couple and a third person he hadn’t seen before. An incredibly tall male Khajiit with a jagged scar across his snout.  Hinaamo was shouting, desperately pleading with the guards to at least arrest the scarred Khajiit too. Apparently his name was Hazak.</p><p>One of the guards laughed, and beamed Hinaamo over the head with the pommel of his blade. They continued onward, dragging him along. Rahiba, the couple, and Hazak remained behind.</p><p>Rahiba turned to them and bowed her head, “This one apologizes for the trouble brought upon you by this madman. A sad, sad thing to happen to such… loyal citizens of Mistral.”</p><p>Hazak smirked and the Altmer giggled.</p><p>The chubby Khajiit spoke, “Khajiit merely regrets that he had to take a blow for all of this to be over with.” He rubbed his lower back, “He fears he is getting too old for this.”</p><p>“You would have taken more than just the one had it been necessary.” Hazak slapped him on the back to emphasize his point; he looked to Rahiba, “To think that our little agreement was jeopardized by a lunatic wearing false cat-ears.”</p><p>“About that…” Rahiba started nervously, “You will maintain the bargain, yes?”</p><p>Hazak grinned cruelly, “Afraid, little one? Good. Fear will keep you alive. But yes, the Crosstrees will stay away from Mistral. Aside from these two, of course.” He gestured to the couple.</p><p>Rahiba sighs in relief and nods, “A… pleasure doing business with you, then.”</p><p>Hazak bows his head and leaves without another word. The couple followed suit, going in two different directions. Rahiba remained a while longer. She dragged her hand down her face, and then wandered off into the night.</p><p>Vakarion leaned back, guilt piling up in his stomach. He shoved those thoughts away. There was nothing he could have done. Clearly if the c<em>aptain of the guard</em> was afraid of these Crossed-bees then they were a threat far too big for just him and some random person with a chip on his shoulder to deal with.</p><p>Right?</p><p>He shook those doubts off. Once the coast was clear, he got out of his hiding spot and made his way back to the inn. By the time he reached it, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. He noticed it as shadows began to form and stretch around him</p><p>Vakarion puffed out his cheeks and buried his face in his hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was actually kind of excited for this one. Hinaamo is actually an npc you can find in Khenarthi's roost that I haven't seen hardly anyone talk about. Which is weird because he's basically kind of a Batman joke. I guess nobody really talks to random npcs, or maybe people just don't go to the area he's in or search his house. But yeah, he himself is to the left of the big mansion Harani and the bank is in on the ledge overlooking the crafting area and his house you actually go into for a quest. You can find his journal next to a bed.</p><p>I'm like... 50% sure that you can pickpocket him so there's your incentive.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Cultists did it.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Syndiel awoke inside his crate. His back hurt. His mouth was dry. His head was <em>throbbing</em>. He reached up and haphazardly cast a healing spell on his face. That helped to alleviate the head trauma but he would need to see a proper healer.</p><p>He tried to push the crate open, got a splinter, got mad, hit the lid of the crate again, got ANOTHER splinter, and then laid back down in the silks. He would wait a bit longer before slapping himself with another healing spell and kicking the side of the box. This resulted in a sharp pain in his ankle. Eventually, someone opened it up to see what was groaning in pain.</p><p>Syndiel waved to the sailor staring down at him, “Not a stowaway… hit in the head. Twice. Cultists did it.”</p><p>The sailor called some of her crew=mates over as Syndiel's vision faded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Short one for today because A) I'm sick, B) I had a balls-to-the-wall, full bore panic attack that lasted the better part of the day</p><p>As for why I just didn't skip a day? I'm not a quitter. I said a chapter a day until May and I McFucking meant it. The loophole here being that I can just do a short 'chapter' here or there when I need to.</p><p>I played Crusader Kings 2 to calm myself down and became the King of Poland, and that went really well until my idiot grandson took over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. No, that's stupid.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Imaginary drowning, unjust violence against a fabergé egg, mild gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Syndiel awoke lying in silks once more. This time, however, they were the sheets of a bed and not cargo in a crate. The bed was covered in pillows of every color and none of which were in the standard pillow shape. Some were hearts, some were weird squiggles, and one was just a sack. The bed was draped in a canopy of yet more silks.</p><p>Syndiel rolled his eyes and dug his way free from them. He stepped out into a grassy knoll covered in small white flowers and surrounded on all sides by endless blue water. There was light, but no sun.</p><p>“Alright. Where are you?” Syndiel crossed his arms, “I don’t feel like playing hide-and-seek with you today.”</p><p>A man who was approximately 75% scraggly beard crawled out from under the bed with boney limbs, “Pfah! You get less and less fun each time I see you!” he spoke with a raspy voice.</p><p>“Here I thought I outgrew the whole ‘imaginary friend’ thing when I was twelve. Must have gotten hit in the head harder than I thought...” Syndiel sat at the edge of the water, “Alright, what is it you want to talk about?”</p><p>The man scuttled next to him, the tip of his beard floating atop the water, “Can’t a man speak to an old friend?”</p><p>“Yes. That’s what I’m asking you to-“ Syndiel sighed, “Privy, <em>old friend</em>, what hast thou been up to in thine absence.”</p><p>The man cackled and slapped Syndiel on the back, pushing him into the water. Syndiel resurfaced with a previously non-present lilypad and frog atop his head.</p><p>“None of that made sense. Don’t try to speak old human, it don’t fit your mouth.” The man’s voice got serious suddenly, and then immediately went back to giddy, “Me? I’ve been doing what I do. That is to say… nothing important. I’m more interested in what happened to you!”</p><p>Syndiel trudged out of the water, removing the lilypad with two fingers and tossing it over his shoulder. The frog squeaked as it jumped away. “Me too. I was walking around the docks.”</p><p>“As you are want to do.” The man raised a single finger.</p><p>“As I am want to do.” Syndiel sat down in his original spot, “Something hit me from behind, two idiots in robes pulled me into a row boat… then t<em>hey</em> hit me in the head and I wake up in a crate.”</p><p>“Sounds like a fun evening!”</p><p>“It wasn’t.”</p><p>“Well… what can you tell me about the idiots?” the man asked. The frog was climbing up his beard.</p><p>“They were cultists, clearly. Passing some contraband off.” Syndiel leaned back.</p><p>“Contraband? What sorta contraband?”</p><p>“It was this… orb. Covered in cheesecloth. It kind of gave off this heavy… gross feeling. Probably a magicka bomb.”</p><p>“Was it Daedric?”</p><p>Syndiel thought for a moment, “It didn’t <strong>feel</strong> Daedric? At least not entirely… it was its own… thing?”</p><p>“Daedric in smell but not in flavor?”</p><p>“Yes, exactly. I’m feeling Sload. Does Sload have a feeling?”</p><p>“Sluggy and moist.”</p><p>“It wasn’t moist. Maybe a bit sluggy.”</p><p>“Well. You do know that Sload like to make deals with Daedra.”</p><p>“Huh, that could be it… I swear though, there was this… underflavor? Is that a word?”</p><p>“It is.” It was not.</p><p>“Underflavor of something else. I mean… I <em>know</em> what Daedric magic feels like.”</p><p>“Do you, now?”</p><p>“Uh… yeah. Duh. I’m good at that kind of thing. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Syndiel stared up at the endless blue-white-gray sky above him, “Not like it’s my problem. Honestly, a Sload attack might just be what Summerset needs to get people to pull their heads out of their asses.”</p><p>“Oh my! How caustic!”</p><p>“Tell me I’m wrong, though.”</p><p>“You’re wrong.”</p><p>Syndiel exhaled, “You know what I meant.”</p><p>The man laughed, “I suppose a little bit of chaos never did hurt a situation. I mean… who cares about collateral? Maybe it’ll go off near an orphanage!”</p><p>“Not what I meant…” Syndiel frowned.</p><p>“Hey. If you want a big change with a big explosion, you’ve gotta accept that maybe an orphan or two will get blown up.”</p><p>“Wait… you know damn well as I do that there aren’t any orphanages on the main island!” Syndiel sat up, “Oh my stars there’s no orphanages on Summerset.”</p><p>The old man laughed.</p><p>“See, that’s why we need something to blow up. Metaphorically or literally.” Syndiel crossed his arms.</p><p>“So you aren’t going to tell anyone what you saw?”</p><p>“Oh no, I will. Once I figure out where in Oblivion I am.”</p><p>He laughed again, “You’re not in Oblivion!”</p><p>“Ugh… I’m going to wake up now.” Syndiel stood up and walked out into the water, “Don’t visit me again! I’m too old for this… imagination bullshite or whatever it is!” he called back.</p><p>“I promise nothing!” the old man shouted back before scurrying back under the bed.</p><p>Syndiel laid down in the water, allowing it to fill his lungs and mouth. The sky above, visible through it, turned dark. He felt himself fade away.</p><p>Then he woke up.</p><p> </p><p>                Syndiel awoke lying in a bed with regular pillows and a quilted bedspread. He looked around. He was in a sparsely decorated room. Altmeri in architecture, what with the beveled ceiling and aggressive wainscoting. There was a distinct magical tinge to the air, along with an alchemical smell.</p><p>He got up, and lo and behold, his back didn’t hurt anymore. Neither did his head for that matter. Syndiel silently thanked his luck for sparing him the embarrassment of hunting down a healer on his own. He wandered around the room a bit (there was absolutely nothing of note) before opening the door and peering down the hallway.</p><p>Two mages were approaching, chatting between themselves. Both were wearing blue and white, incredibly simple robes. One was an Altmeri woman with a spattering of freckles across her face, and the other was a human woman, short and sporting incredibly curly hair.</p><p>This was the first time Syndiel had seen a human <em>mage</em> before, and the fifteenth time he had seen a human at all. Sure the docks had the odd human merchant, but they were honestly a rarity. Most imports to Summerset were handled by Altmeri trading companies. Plus human ships weren’t really allowed where he liked to walk. Especially considering the Empire was only Empire-y for a short while before it blew up, having previously been run by Reachmen or something. Syndiel didn’t know, he didn’t keep up with mainland politics.</p><p>The human nudged her friend and pointed to Syndiel, “Look! He lived!”</p><p>Syndiel’s face went red and he tried to make himself look as presentable as possible in as short a time as possible with no mirrors or brushes or even a dab of concealing paste. He retained his ragamuffin status despite his best efforts.</p><p>He waved awkwardly to them.</p><p>“Damn, I thought he’d be comatose for at least another week.” The Altmer woman commented as they reached him.</p><p>“You sound disappointed.” The human looked up at her.</p><p>“I had a bet riding on it. Fifty gold.”</p><p>“Ugh, you need help.” The human then looked up to Syndiel, “I am sorry for her, she does not have much in the way of social graces. She is Myrawe and I am Peony. We… or at least… I am glad to see you upright.”</p><p>“S-syndiel.” He bowed his head, “Syndiel Fyrren Noreina. I apologize for taking up any resources and-“</p><p>Myrawe nudged Peony, “Oi. He isn’t with the Guild.”</p><p>“Rude… you could have let him finish.” Peony muttered, “What do you mean? He has the robes for it.”</p><p>“No, he just used three names and he probably has more. This kid’s a noble.”</p><p>Peony blinked, “Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah…” Myrawe glared at Syndiel.</p><p>“I thought Altmer didn’t have but the one name?” Peony tilted her head.</p><p>“What? No, that’s stupid.”</p><p>“…I feel as though there was a bit of a shift.” Syndiel forced a laugh, “B-but I get it, really, I have to live with those types and I can promise I’m not going to… I won’t get you in trouble.”</p><p>“Go talk to the Magister. We have nothing left to say to you.” Myrawe dragged a slightly confused Peony off by the arm, “Pompous, gilded arseholes…”</p><p>Syndiel watched them leave, ears drooping slightly and brow knitting into a crease that with each passing year threatened to become permanent. He started walking the halls of what he had gleaned to be a Mage’s Guild chapter. As he descended some stairs, he felt a particularly strong magical presence, mortal this time.</p><p>He followed it to a closed door, behind which he heard two men arguing. Syndiel pressed his ear against it.</p><p>‘We can’t just wait around with our thumbs up our own arseholes! This isn’t a matter of politics! The Mundus itself is at stake!’</p><p>‘And I’m telling <em>you</em> that we can’t simply waltz into Coldharbour and throw spells at the problem until it goes away!’</p><p>‘That is not in the slightest what I suggested, but it would at least be SOMETHING, Curinure! We can’t just hope that the Banners will decide to put their weapons down, hold hands, and sing around a campfire. They’re <em>idiots</em>.’</p><p>‘What would you have us do?! Kidnap the figureheads at the top and force them to play nice?’</p><p>‘I am frankly considering it at this point!’</p><p>Syndiel heard one of them storm towards the door. He fell backwards, scrambling to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping. He wound up leaning against a bookshelf across the hallway from the door, pretending like a fabergé egg that he had picked up off of it was the absolute most interesting thing he had ever seen.</p><p>The door flung open and an older Altmer man with short, silver hair and a full goatee flanked by somewhat unkempt stubble. He had a scar over his right eyebrow and… It was Vanus Galerion. Syndiel dropped the egg, face pale. It shattered on the floor.</p><p>“Ha! Ha… erm… sorry I just-“ Syndiel stomped the egg once, turning it further into dust and kicking the pieces behind the bookshelf, Gods the magic  radiating off of that man was strong, “I was just looking for the- the-“</p><p>Galerion looked over his shoulder and called back into the office he had walked out of, “Curinure! One of your students is having a stroke in the hallway!” he paused and looked back to Syndiel, “I’m mad at him so I’ll let the fact you just broke part of his collection slide.”</p><p>Syndiel nodded his head with undue exaggeration; his face was bright red, “Y-yes sir! I’m- I will not-“ his ear twitched, a distinctly Daedric but incredibly weak wave of magic passed over him. He looked in that direction.</p><p>Curinure stepped from his office, “Please tell me an apprentice didn’t explode-“ he looked at Syndiel, “Oh. It’s the mage they fished out of some cargo. I thought you were dead, boy.”</p><p>Syndiel was locked onto whatever had made that pulse; he didn’t quite catch what he had said.</p><p>“<em>Boy.</em>” Curinure snapped his fingers, “Pay attention. Are you-“</p><p>A second pulse of magic, Syndiel flinched and covered his ears, “Something’s coming.”</p><p>Vanus seemed to have picked up on it too, he began marching down the hallway. Syndiel followed in a half trance.</p><p>“Wh- Are you just- Oh <em>fine</em>.” Curinure followed as well, “No need to tell poor old Curinure what’s going on. Just run into something with no information or plan!”</p><p>Syndiel overtook Galerion. Soon enough they were outside on a path leading out of Mage’s Guild grounds… and then out of whatever town they were in. Over a hill and into a large clearing. Curinure complained the whole walk.</p><p>They arrived at a large stone circle built into the dirt of a fairly large field wedged between two stony outcroppings. In the center was what almost looked like a massive well with steps leading up one side. Daedric runes were carved into the circle.</p><p>“This… wasn’t here a few days ago.” Curinure kneeled down next to one of the runes. A large Daedric ‘O’, commonly seen in virtually anything even remotely related to Oblivion.</p><p>“It looks like a summoning-“ Vanus glanced to a small pathway on the other side of the valley, “Someone’s coming.”</p><p>He grabbed Syndiel, who was listlessly staring up at the sky, mouth slightly agape, and dragged him to a bush. Curinure followed suit.</p><p>A large group of people in black robes moved into position around the well-like structure. Two dragged a man between them and up to the well.</p><p>One shouted up to the sky, “Molag Bal, we offer you this blood sacrifice!” she began.</p><p>“Shouldn’t we stop th-“ Curinure whispered.</p><p>“Wait. This is valuable information.” Galerion held a hand up; a look of wild curiosity was slowly spreading its way across his face.</p><p>Syndiel covered his ears again, the pulses were coming more frequently now.</p><p>“Let Coldharbour remake Nirn in its own image!” the woman continued as the other cultists began chanting, “Bind this world with your chains! Draw it into your grasp!”</p><p>The two threw the sacrifice into the well. A beam of light erupted from it, vaporizing the poor man instantly and piercing the sky above.</p><p>“Through the blood of this innocent, we call forth your anchor to join our worlds!” the woman was barely audible over the horrific screeching of the beam.</p><p>A sudden split second of silence. The wind began to pick up. And then all of the cultists were consumed in blue flame, crying out in agony as they were rended asunder with zero hesitation from whatever force was behind it. The beam increased in brightness, and massive ringlike structure formed in the sky, encircling it. A horrible, almost mechanical boom echoed through the air as the rings became solid. The center of the rings glowed bright blue as a portal opened up. Massive chains fell from it, sinking into the ground.</p><p>As if all of that wasn’t enough, fire rained down from the portal. The larger fireballs contained Daedra, who upon crash-landing, got up and began to fiddle with a metallic cube-thing that had risen in front of the well-thing if they were humanoid, and began patrolling around the circle if they were not.</p><p>Vanus laughed and climbed out of the bush, staff at the ready. A Clannfear, a lizard-like Daedra about the size of half a cow rushed him. He dismissed it with a quick flick of his wrist and a lightning spell. He turned around on his heel to face the bush as the rest of the Daedra began to take notice of him.</p><p>“Isn’t this great?” he called to Curinure and Syndiel, “We know how the anchors work now! We can stop them before they drop!”</p><p>Curinure looked on in abject horror as Galerion was surrounded by Daedra. Syndiel was watching with puppy-dog like adoration for his childhood hero. Vanus spun back around, slamming his staff down, sending all the Daedra flying back.</p><p>“Now don’t let me have all the fun!” he shouted.</p><p>Curinure sighed, dragged a hand down his face, and got out of the bush. He was no slouch in the magic department himself. He summoned an ethereal bow and fired an arrow into the head of a Dremora.</p><p>“We could have come to that conclusion WITHOUT letting them summon the damn thing!” Curinure shouted.</p><p>Galerion could not hear him as he was having the time of his life. Slinging spells and killing Daedra.</p><p>Syndiel shook his head and emerged from the bush. He drew a circle in the air from ambient magicka, sending forth several shards of ice into the horde of Daedra.</p><p>Curinure smacked his shoulder. “Don’t draw magicka from the environment, fool!”</p><p>“Ow! What do-“ Syndiel flinched as the shards exploded violently on impact.</p><p>“That’s why.” Curinure nodded towards the newly-created Dremora viscera, “There’s Daedric magic in the air.”</p><p>“Right.” Syndiel changed tactics, trying to draw on his own magic. Unfortunately most of it was dedicated to his innate ability for sensing magicka, a thing he really couldn’t turn off. He managed one shard of ice that he flung at another Clannfear. It kind of whizzed over its head, not even drawing its attention.</p><p>Syndiel sighed.</p><p>The fight went on, the two senior mages fighting the droves of Daedra that fell from the sky. They didn’t seem to relent. For every one felled, two more seemed to pop up. Vanus didn’t seem to notice quite yet, but Curinure was growing tired.</p><p>Syndiel had taken shelter behind a rock, taking the odd potshot. He took a moment to watch. Near where Vanus was fighting was the metallic-floating-cube thing. A glow emanated from the middle. Syndiel watched Galerion fight for a second and it became very clear, very quickly that he was showing off.  Casting flashier and flashier spells.</p><p>Syndiel looked back to the cube, narrowing his eyes at it. The longer he stared, the more he could feel out the magic. The runes below were absorbing magic and pouring it into the well which was anchoring whatever was going on in the sky to this plane, and it was all being funneled through that cube. He ran out from behind his rock and into the fray.</p><p>“W-“ Curinure saw him bolt from the corner of his eye, “Don’t be stupid! Get back here!”</p><p>Syndiel wouldn’t have listened to him even if he could hear him. He ducked beneath a chunk of rock flung at Vanus by a big, rotund Daedra, commonly known as an Ogrim. Vanus raised a ward with a flourish of his staff and a laugh.</p><p>A scamp jumped on Syndiel’s back and chomped at his hair, his lovely, long, perfectly tended-to hair. Syndiel reached back and tried to pull it from his back and throw it over his head. It worked; the scamp went flying into the beam of light with a mouthful of blonde hair after a ripping sound. Syndiel would have time to mourn it later.</p><p>Syndiel reached the cube, he pulled on it and the cage opened up, exposing the magical, glowing orb within. He took a breath and jammed his hand inside.</p><p>What followed next was the worst pain Syndiel had ever felt in his life. A burning coldness shot through him, tearing at the fibers of his being. He grit his teeth and forced himself to stay together as best he could, but he really, really didn’t have enough innate magicka for it. So he went against Curinure’s warning and drew magic from the surroundings.</p><p>Said surroundings being the beam. Syndiel unintentionally rerouted all of the magic that was passing through to Nirn, directly into himself. And well… this didn’t work, judging by the blue, veiny streaks forming on his body. All of that magic had to go somewhere. So he raised his other hand, pushed it into the orb, and sent it all back up into the beam.</p><p>This did the trick. The channels were suddenly reversed, causing the well to explode. The beam increased in intensity a moment, and then began to rapidly fade from the bottom up. When it reached the sky-rings, there was a massive pulse of light. The rings spun and spun and spun until…</p><p>Boom.</p><p>Syndiel was flung back when the well had exploded, landing breathless in the grass several yards behind himself. Galerion has kept his ward up. And Curinure jumped behind Syndiel’s rock. The chunks of ring and chain disappeared from Nirn and the wind settled. The sky was once again blue and a bird began singing as if nothing had happened.</p><p>Vanus lowered his ward, and shouted up where the rings had been, “HA! Take THAT, Mannimarco! I know you can hear me you SNAKE!”</p><p>Curinure offered Syndiel a hand, “He’s… going to be at that for a while. What did you do?”</p><p>Syndiel snort-giggled, “I… made the magic go <em>backwards</em>.”</p><p>“Auri-el spare me…” Curinure pulled him upright… or at least tried to.</p><p>Syndiel sort of flopped the way he was pushed, “Hey… it’s okay… I’m rich.” He giggled again, “I sssaved you. You know what that means…” He poked Curinure on the forehead.</p><p>Curinure dropped him back onto the ground, “Ugh. Vanus, I-“ he looked back over to see Vanus was still loudly gloating at the sky.</p><p>“I wanna mee-dell.” Syndiel whispered, “Winners get those. My papa says so.”</p><p>Curinure stood, waiting for the stupid to wear off. He could feel himself gaining some new gray hairs and wrinkles around the eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For reference, I'm going with concept art Vanus Galerion instead of whatever the fuck they did to him in ESO. Just look it up. Concept art Vanus Galerion is leagues better than the lazy excuse they put in the game. Like I understand liking long hair on Galerion, I've seen the fanart which is usually good if not kind of horny, but the actual frigging model in the game is just BAD. ESO Galerion isn't a powerful, clever, arrogant mage who may or may not be a masochist. ESO Galerion is the weird guy who sells whippets and claims to be the 'mind wizard' who lives behind the Circle K two blocks from me. And it makes me mad because he's one of the most important characters to the main quest in ESO and one of the more important characters in the franchise PERIOD.<br/>Dweeb rant over.</p><p>Also, knoll should be spelled gnoll</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Meanwhile...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Expect more</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. That's not good.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Light gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion trudged up the steps to the Headwoman’s mansion. It wasn’t too hard to find, even for him, as it was the largest building in Mistral that wasn’t a warehouse. Apparently it was attached to a bank, which was odd. It was also home to the guards, a makeshift Dominion embassy, AND the city’s prison was located underneath it.</p><p>Vakarion sort of understood it. If HE was in charge of an island he would want all of the money and people who knew how to fight nearby, yeah… A prison was pushing it, but maybe if he was a sadist he’d get it. Really, it was the impromptu embassy that didn’t make sense. Again, if he was hypothetically in charge of an island and an entire army showed up and smashed themselves on his shores, he wouldn’t invite a bunch of them to do business in his house.</p><p>When he walked into the building proper, which was positively bustling with activity, he was immediately struck by two things. One was the sheer and ungodly amount of curtains. Curtains, curtains, curtains everywhere. Some were used as room dividers, some were just decorative, and absolutely zero were covering windows. The windows were instead covered in a sepia-tinted parchment of some sort.</p><p>The second thing he was struck by was a bowl flung from somewhere to his right. With the lovely <em>thunk</em> that was born from the union of said piece of pottery and his skull came a wave of silence from all present in the house. Vakarion reached up to check if he was bleeding, his hand came back down with no blood or otherwise, so that was good.</p><p>A Khajiiti woman in a blue dress with a rag tucked into her belt approached him, “Azura’s bosom, are you okay?!”</p><p>“Yeah? At least, I think so? Oh, hey, you can help me I’m-“ Vakarion started.</p><p>“Who threw that?!” she turned to face the direction from which the bowl flew.</p><p>A Maormeri soldier pointed at an Altmeri one, who in turn, pointed at him. The Khajiit stormed over to them, grabbed both by the earlobes, and led them somewhere upstairs. The silence passed and all went back to normal as though nothing had happened. All except for a Bosmer sitting across the way, staring at Vakarion with wide, fearful eyes.</p><p>Vakarion shrugged and walked over to him, stepping over the bits of broken glass, “Hey. Do you know of a…” he thought a moment, “Silver Gar?”</p><p>The Bosmer blinked and cleared his throat, “I-I believe you’re looking for the Silvenar. He’s- I believe he’s with the Green Lady. How did you..?”</p><p>“…how did I what?”</p><p>“You just took a projectile to the head and-“ he gestured at him, “You were- I swear I saw-“</p><p>“Yyyes..?”</p><p>“You know what. I think it’d be best if you talked to the Silvenar. I don’t want to know.” The Bosmer stood up and led him down a hallway.</p><p>Vakarion cheerily followed, occasionally pausing to look at a painting. Why were they all landscapes? None of them had people in them. Vakarion thought that was kind of boring. If he owned a giant mans-</p><p>“Come on!” The Bosmer called from down the hallway.</p><p>“Wh- Oh! Sorry!” Vakarion ran after him, nearly tripping on an overly-ornate rug.</p><p>“In here. Try to be... professional.” He opened the door.</p><p>“Professional! Got it. I can do that.” Vakarion walked inside, “Hey, is the Silver Gar in here..?”</p><p>A sword was pointed in his face. A Bosmer woman in armor not dissimilar to Firion’s was standing in front of him atop the balls of her feet so she could reach his neck.</p><p>“You have ten seconds to explain yourself before I tear your throat out.” She sneered.</p><p>Vakarion nodded, “I’mherebecauseIwastoldtogiveatokentotheSilverGarbysomeonewhotoldmethathewouldputmeincontactwithpeoplewhoknewhattodotostopColdharbourfrombecomingNirnso-“</p><p>“Time’s up!” she went to slice his throat but a hand caught her wrist.</p><p>“Wait, Love…” Another Bosmer, this one male and in odd, somewhat revealing robes chuckled, “He hasn’t done anything to deserve that yet.”</p><p>She blushed a bit, snorted, and went to sit nearby.</p><p>“I apologize, the Green Lady is the protective sort.” The man bowed his head, “You were looking for me?”</p><p>“…you’re not a fish. Oh right!” Vakarion reached into his pocket and handed the token to him, “I’m running on an hour of sleep and two weird fruit that may or may not have been drugged, so whatever you need me to do, it’ll get done. Just not necessarily quietly nor cleanly.”</p><p>The Silvenar took the token, “Ah… I- Well I can’t say that I see. Why were you unable to sleep?”</p><p>“Corruption in the government. I think.”</p><p>The first Bosmer who Vakarion had met whispered something into the Silvenar’s ear. The Silvenar nodded and sent him on his way.</p><p>“Gods… I have a headache.” Vakarion paid no mind to the transaction, “Someone beamed me in the head with something when I walked in. That’s-“</p><p>“Ah, yes, my friend mentioned. Why don’t you come and have a seat?” the Silvenar hurriedly moved Vakarion to a sofa, “Where exactly was it that you got hit?”</p><p>“Huh? Oh, yeah. Um…” Vakarion blanked for a moment, “Which time? Oh, you probably mean the most recent- Right here.” He pointed to his temple, “Here… ish? I think.”</p><p>“And… do you know any healing magic?”</p><p>“I don’t think s-“ Vakarion flinched as a horrific pain began radiating down from his forehead towards the back of his throat, “Don’t think so.”</p><p>“Uh-huh… do you know <em>any </em>magic?” The Silvenar poked Vakarion’s temple.</p><p>“Oww… I can make locks open.” Vakarion cleared his throat as the pain gained a new sub-feeling. Itchiness.</p><p>“Okay. What star were you born under?”</p><p>“Presumably the ones in the sky, though that’s up for debate.”</p><p>The Silvenar laughed nervously, “Right… you… Hm.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound-“ Vakarion was wracked with a sudden and intense coughing fit, the pain had thankfully disappeared entirely from his skull-area and moved on entirely to his throat-area. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished as he felt something hard get ejected from his mouth and into his hand. He looked down to see a small, roughly pea-sized piece of ceramic.</p><p>“…that’s not good.” Vakarion held the shard up a moment before slumping over, unconscious on the couch.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one's going out to the one person who left a kudos.<br/>You are my rock.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. On one condition.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Non-explicit allusions to boinking</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion came to a short while later. The Green Lady was stabbing the tip of a knife into his palm, pulling it out, and watching as the blood schwooped back to where it was supposed to be and the skin reseal. Vakarion, naturally, screamed and pulled away. The Green Lady frowned as her fun was spoiled.</p><p>The Silvenar rushed to his side, “Calm down! It’s okay!”</p><p>“Wh- Are you kidding?! She stabbed me!” Vakarion pointed at the Green Lady.</p><p>“Uh… yes… she was just testing-“</p><p>Vakarion cut him off, “no. No. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear about it, I don’t want to think about it.”</p><p>“But-“</p><p>“I’m serious! Whatever that was didn’t happen!”</p><p>“Is that a threat?” The Green Lady pulled a completely new dagger from under a pauldron.</p><p>“What is <em>with</em> you? No! It’s a statement of fact!” Vakarion’s ears stood straight up, “It. Didn’t. Happen.”</p><p>“I-if that’s what you want?” The Silvenar frowned.</p><p>“Anyway… I had a job to do. What is it?”</p><p>“W-well…” The Silvenar coughed, “Our mutual friend has informed me of a treaty that could be of use to us…”</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion stood in front of the Maormer embassy. It was Khajiiti in architecture and Maormeri in décor. That is to say, it was ugly as sin. Why were there giant blue-green snake statues? Why were there banners with yet more snakes adorning them? The Headwoman’s mansion had already upset his sensibilities. What with the curtains and all… But this was just insulting.</p><p>Speaking of the Headwoman, talking to her about the treaty hadn’t gone well. He hadn’t even been allowed to speak with her for more than a minute. She was incredibly busy with <em>something</em> paperwork-related and treated his intrusion as such. With a scowl, a tail flick, and short answers.</p><p>Apparently she lost her copy of the treaty, which was just peachy. Now he, someone who had no idea how to approach the apparently tense and complicated relationship between the Altmer and Maormer, had to walk up to their front door, knock on it, and ask for a piece of paper. Vakarion was seriously questioning Razum-dar’s tactical ability at this point.</p><p>He sighed and walked up the steps. Gods… there was a blue welcome mat. Why? He knocked on the door before noticing a weird ring with a metal ball attacked to the bottom. He tilted his head and pulled down on it. Nothing happened. He lifted it up with one finger and slowly set it back down before knocking again.</p><p>A grumpy-looking Maormer with black hair and even, opaque gray skin opened the door.</p><p>“What?” he sized Vakarion up, “…bet I could take you.” He added under his breath.</p><p>“Probably. I’m  here about…” Vakarion rolled up his sleeve and read some smudged writing from his forearm, “A… traty. Oh, treaty. The Headwoman no longer has her copy and I was told that-“</p><p>“Oh, are you with the archives?”</p><p>“…yes. As you can guess, her… not having a copy is… very bad for business because…” Vakarion pulled up his other sleeve, “Oh, yes, if there’s no documentation of the alliance between the Khajiit of Kenarti’s Roost and the Maormer of… Pee…an…donya then the Dominion has no legal constraints. Meaning they can just barge in and do whatever they want.” Vakarion winced a bit in preparation for the inevitable shouting. There was no way this guy would buy his bullshit.</p><p>“Uh… yeah. That makes sense.” The Maormer scratched the back of his head.</p><p>Vakarion mentally congratulated his own genius, “Great! So the treaty…”</p><p>“Fine… on one condition.”</p><p>Vakarion’s eye twitched, “Of course…”</p><p>The Maormer closed the door. Vakarion could hear him run off, footsteps growing distant and then inaudible… and then they returned. The Maormer opened the door and handed him a letter and a scroll held together with a ribbon and a wax seal.</p><p>“Take that to Zali. She’s got silver fur, blue eyes, and she lives down by the docks.” The Maormer seemed very proud of himself.</p><p>Vakarion blinked, “I… alright.” He shrugged and walked off.</p><p>The Maormer made a little fist-bump and strutted back inside.</p><p>Vakarion considered his options, he could just toss the letter entirely buuuttt… He kind of wanted to see how this ended. He resolved to deliver the letter after he delivered the treaty. He strolled over a bridge that was built in a steep arc for NO REASON when he heard a familiar voice.</p><p>“My friend!” Razum-dar more or less appeared from nowhere.</p><p>“GAH!” Vakarion nearly dropped the papers, “How do you do that?!”</p><p>“Do what?” Raz asked innocently, “Not important. Did you manage to get the treaty?”</p><p>“Aye.” Vakarion passed it over, watching as Raz unsealed it, “It was actually kind of easy.”</p><p>“Was it the dark-haired doorman?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You got lucky. The fool will most likely be reprimanded, or worse, within the hour.” Raz skimmed through the document.</p><p>“Is this thing really that big of a deal?”</p><p>“Considering that it was kept behind lock-and-key and Harrani’s document magically disappeared at a most convenient time? Yes.” Raz rereads a passage, “…Razum-dar is going to read you a passage. He is not sure that this is real.”</p><p>Vakarion leaned on a railing, “Alright.”</p><p>Raz cleared his throat and adopted a bastardized Altmer/Maormer hybrid accent, “Attendance of general festivities during… blah blah blah… though feast participation shall be limited to Maormer invitees, the Mayor of Khenarthi’s Roost, and no more than three.” He held up three fingers, “The number three, in case you were confused, guests selected by the Mayor… blah blah blah… Foodstuffs shall be prepared by Maormer chefs, music performed by Maormer minstrels, and under NO circumstances shall the repugnant dish “sugared cuttlefish” be served.”</p><p>“No way.” Vakarion looked over his shoulder, “They included all of that in a bloody peace treaty?”</p><p>“Yes! Look!” Raz handed it back to him, “There is an entire article on a holiday. The rest is merely the Maormer exploiting their position of strength over the people of Khenarthi’s Roost for their own gain.”</p><p>Vakarion scanned the treaty, “Three questions.”</p><p>“Go ahead.”</p><p>“One… why do they say ‘Mayor of Khenarthi’s Roost’? How can you be a mayor of an island when that island has a distinct town on it? Also isn’t she called the Headwoman?”</p><p>“That’s splitting hairs.”</p><p>“I guess? Two… will this really help the Silvenar with… whatever it is he does?”</p><p>“The Silvenar is a master diplomat, well-versed in paperwork and politcal dealings. My understanding of the position is that he speaks for the Bosmer, especially in foreign affairs. I believe he was even an ambassador before he ascended. He can poke holes in this. Twist the Maormer’s own words against them.”</p><p>“Okay. I have several follow-up questions now but I’ll save them for later. Anyway three… who’s King Orgnum?”</p><p>Raz’s tail twitched, “Ah. That’s a more difficult question. Razum-dar unfortunately knows little. He is the god-king of the Maormer and speaks to them in their heads. That is the extent of my knowledge.”</p><p>“God-King?”</p><p>“He is worshipped as one and is, by all accounts, immortal. Though nobody but the Maormer have laid eyes upon him. It could be a load of… what’s a good phrase?”</p><p>“Bullshit?”</p><p>“Something less crass.”</p><p>“…pigshit?”</p><p>Raz stared at him and shrugged, “Sure. Go take that treaty back up to the Silvenar. Raz has business elsewhere.”</p><p>“What is it that you’ve been doing anyway?”</p><p>“Classified. At least for now. Off with you then!” Razum-dar pushed Vakarion slightly.</p><p>“Fine! But I’m walking backwards so you can’t do that vanishing thing!” Vakarion walked backwards down the bridge. He fell. When he sat back up the Khajiit was gone.</p><p>“Gods damn it…” Vakarion grumbled and headed back up to the Headwoman’s house.</p><p> </p><p>He arrived in front of the Silvenar’s door. It was quiet. He knocked on the door.</p><p>No response.</p><p>He slooowly opened the door and peeked in. A boot flew at his face from inside.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion sat in the hallway waiting for the Silvenar and the Green Lady to get dressed. He poked at his rapidly-healing bruise with a frown.</p><p>“I’m going hunting.” The Green Lady stormed out of the room and down the hallway, swearing in a tongue Vakarion did not recognize. The Silvenar walked out shortly afterward, neck sporting some purple-red splotches.</p><p>“I- <em>ahem</em>. I hope your mission was successful.” He stood up straight, nose tilted slightly upward.</p><p>“It was.” Vakarion handed him the treaty, “I didn’t see anything.”</p><p>“No. You didn’t.” The Silvenar scanned the treaty, “…’sugared cuttlefish’?”</p><p>“Yeah. We couldn’t figure that one out either.”</p><p>The Silvenar continued reading, a wry smile slowly spread across his cheeks and a twinkle appeared in his eyes, “I can work with this.”</p><p>“So… you’re a priest diplomat or something?” Vakarion leaned against a wall.</p><p>“Ah… not quite.” The Silvenar chuckled, “I am a diplomat for the Dominion, yes. I’m often assigned to trips like these to represent it and my people. As for the ‘priest’ part… you’re not too far off. I am the Voice of the Bosmer. I represent them legally, spiritually, and emotionally. If they are healthy, so am I, and vice versa.”</p><p>“That… kind of made sense?”</p><p>“It’s mostly symbolic. Though there is a magical component to it.”</p><p>“Aaand… your wife?”</p><p>The Silvenar got a dopey, love-struck look in his eyes, “Ah… the Green Lady. She is my other half.”</p><p>Vakarion made a gagging noise.</p><p>“I am the Bosmer’s spirit, where as she is the body.” The Silvenar continued, “She’s fierce, strong, graceful… a master of combat… Primal, untamed-”</p><p>“Stars above, man! I get it!” Vakarion made a face, “You’re going to make a mess!”</p><p>“Hmmph. If you were in love, you’d understand.”</p><p>“I will do everything in my power to avoid that fate, then.”</p><p>“Ah… youth. I’m going to go review this and see what I can manage. Meet me at sundown.”</p><p>“Fine. I’ve got a letter to deliver. Everyone’s in bloody love it seems and I’m the unfortunate bystander.” Vakarion started down the hallway, “See you.”</p><p>The Silvenar nodded and went back into his room.</p><p>As he walked down the corridor, Vakarion bumped into a Maormer woman.</p><p>“Excuse me.” She bowed her head slightly, “Didn’t see you there.”</p><p>“Oh, that was my bad. <em>I</em> ran into you.” Vakarion held a hand up.</p><p>The woman smiled and continued in the opposite direction.</p><p>Vakarion carried on his way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gonna admit, this chapter makes 100% more sense (at least joke-wise) if you played through the main quest on Khenarthi's roost.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. I actually hate my job!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Drugs, wanton misuse of the semicolon, bad pyrotechnics, the Ta'agra word for penis</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                A silver-furred Khajiit with a long, black braid, and digitigrades legs sat cross-legged on the docks of Mistral. Cat’s Eye Quay had up and gotten itself hurricane-d, so she was out of work until repairs started, at the very least. A bunch of Dominion whack-jobs were conducting an ‘investigation’ there at the moment, so everyone was just piss out of luck. She picked at her palm where pad met fur. She really needed to buy some lotion.</p><p>A hand holding a letter suddenly appeared from over her shoulder.</p><p>“Zali, is it?” Vakarion asked, “I believe this is for you.”</p><p>She took it, “You’re not the usual courier.”</p><p>“It was a favor.”</p><p>“Who sent this? Was it Lymil?” she unsealed the letter with a claw.</p><p>“If Lymil is the dark-haired Maormer who works the door at the Embassy, then yes.”</p><p>“It is.” Zali read the letter, and her face contorted into a confused scowl, she shoved the letter back at Vakarion, “Tell him that he needs to get off of his high horse before Zali will even consider meeting with him again!”</p><p>Vakarion blinked as Zali stormed off, “…what was with her legs?” he muttered.</p><p>He then sighed and made the long trek back up to the Embassy.</p><p> </p><p>Lymil was already there, waiting for him. His ears perked up when he saw Vakarion approach.</p><p>“Your girlfriend has weird legs!” Vakarion called as he walked up to Lymil.</p><p>“She’s a Suthay-raht. They aren’t w<em>eird</em>!” he snapped, “Anyway, what did she say?”</p><p>“She got mad, gave the letter back, and said she wouldn’t meet with you again until you got off your ‘high horse’.”</p><p>“What? No, no. It must have been something <em>you</em> did if she gave it back…” Lymil’s face turned deep violet.</p><p>Vakarion cleared his throat and read from the letter, “’Why don’t you come up and see how important I am’.”</p><p>“Women like confidence! That’s… what I’ve been told anyway.” Lymil slouched over, crossing his arms.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to lay it on that thick.” Vakarion handed the letter back.</p><p>Lymil snatched it from him, “Well if you’re such an <em>expert</em>… what <em>should</em> I write?”</p><p>“Do I look like I know about the intricacies of romance?”</p><p>“…you <em>do </em>have a goatee.”</p><p>Vakarion groaned, “Ugh… Well, what does she like to do?”</p><p>“She… works at the docks?”</p><p>“That’s a job.”</p><p>“People can like their jobs.”</p><p>“What does she do on the docks?”</p><p>Lymil paused, and thought.</p><p>“…don’t hurt yourself.” Vakarion sat on a nearby bench.</p><p>“Shut up! I’m thinking…” Lymil paced, “Crates.”</p><p>“Crates.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Vakarion rubbed his temples, “Okay, what about- what does she like?”</p><p>Lymil opened his mouth.</p><p>“If you say crates I’m going to throw you over that cliff.” Vakarion interrupted him.</p><p>“She likes… the beach.”</p><p>Vakarion rubbed a temple, “Okay, I guess that’s a start? Why do you even like her?”</p><p>“Uh… isn’t it obvious?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You saw her!”</p><p>“Nnnope.” Vakarion laid sideways on the bench, propping his head up with a fist.</p><p>“It’s none of your business anyway!”</p><p>“It really isn’t, in fac-“</p><p>“Wait, you could help me! Letters and words are frivolous. What I need to do is <strong>prove</strong> my love!”</p><p>Vakarion made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, he forced a smile “Hhhow do you plan on doing that?”</p><p>“I need a grand display! Something that will, beyond a shadow of a doubt, show my love!”</p><p>“Stars above…”</p><p>“Something… bold, bright, daring!” Lymil slammed a hand into his fist, “Sky dazzlers!”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Kindlepitch, pigments, and a bunch of alchemical nonsense wrapped in a paper tube.”</p><p>“That sounds… dangerous.”</p><p>“It is, but they shoot up into the sky and explode there!”</p><p>Vakarion nodded with a confused grimace.</p><p>Lymil grunted, “It’s colorful and pretty. It isn’t big enough to actually hurt anyone unless you stick your face above it before it goes off.”</p><p>“Do you have personal experience with that?”</p><p>“Yes, in fact. During last month’s festival me and my brother- You know what, doesn’t matter! To the market!” Lymil pointed one finger in the air and took on a heroic stance.</p><p>Vakarion looked the way he was pointing, “What, you mean right now?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>Vakarion got up from the bench, “Alright.”</p><p> </p><p>The market was bustling, loud, and sweaty. The sun beamed down from directly overhead and the winds had stilled for the time being. The resulting moon-sugar and body-odor miasma was nearly visible. Vakarion walked behind Lymil, shoulders slumped and stomach betraying his nose by growling intermittently.</p><p>“Look if you’re going to drag me along, the least you can do is buy me lunch.” Vakarion trotted up beside Lymil, whose head was on a swivel.</p><p>“Sure, sure. There’s plenty of food stalls.” Lymil waved a hand.</p><p>“Okay one rejoinder to that… I want food without moon sugar.”</p><p>“Pfft… why? Are you chicken?”</p><p>“No, I just don’t quite feel like eating pickled peaches soaked in magic drugs!” Vakarion gestured to a stall selling just that.</p><p>At least five people from the crowd turned to sneer at him before continuing on.</p><p>Lymil laughed, “It just makes you kind of loopy and sleepy for a while, it’s no big deal.”</p><p>“I don’t need to be sleepy right now! And <em>everything</em> is coated in the stuff. The smell alone is making me sick!”</p><p>“Fine, lily-liver. There should be <em>something</em> that won’t upset your delicate sensibilities.”</p><p>An hour passed and there was nothing that didn’t upset Vakarion’s sensibilities. Lymil had found some paper, but none of the other things he needed. The pair sat some steps.</p><p>“Okay, maybe you had a point when you said <em>everything</em>…” Lymil began.</p><p>“Nooo… really?” Vakarion glared at him. His stomach growled again and he buried his face in his hands.</p><p>“But look. That’s just the Khajiit merchants. We aren’t allowed to bring that stuff into the embassy. And I’ve suffered through enough bland meals to know for certain that the chef barely uses <em>salt</em>, let alone moon sugar.”</p><p>“Great. Now we get to walk clear back the way we came.”</p><p>“Not necessarily!” Lymil put an arm around his shoulders, “See, your buddy Lymil knows people. The alchemist’s shop is down by the docks… the docks where a friend of mine happens to be docked. She can hook you up.”</p><p>“You’re not my buddy, but fine. It’s that or mud.”</p><p>Lymil laughed and slapped him on the back, “You’ll wish you went with the mud!”</p><p>Vakarion huffed and stood up, starting towards the docks.</p><p>“Wait for me!” Lymil jumped and ran after him.</p><p> </p><p>The docks were nearly as packed as the marketplace, only with the added bonus of cargo getting hauled around haphazardly. Vakarion had to dodge a board swinging at his face meanwhile Lymil took a runaway barrel to the shins. They ducked under a building.</p><p>“I think I’ve decided that I hate it here.” Vakarion slumped against a pillar.</p><p>“Aren’t you like… the city’s archivist?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“…are you new or something?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Oh. Well you get used to it!” Lymil grins, “I actually really like it here!”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“Uh… the food, the sights, the women. There’s no swamp gas or plants trying to kill me. Best part? I can barely hear Orgnum! Turns out the farther out you go, the less audible his droning. ‘Bleh! I’m Orngum, the Altmer stole our land, reclaim your birthright!’ As if I even give a shit about Summerset!”</p><p>Vakarion nodded, committing that last bit to memory, “Is… that sentiment common?”</p><p>“No…” Lymil frowned, “The embassy is full of boring, grumpy arseholes trying to suck up to Ulondil at every turn. We get stationed here and I’m the only one who ever goes into town! No wonder you’re bored, <em>Despina</em>! You don’t <em>do anything</em>!”</p><p>“Uh-huh… And Despina is..?”</p><p>“A complete and utter BITCH.” Lymil took on a high-pitched, mocking tone, “‘Lymil, you can’t bring moon sugar into the embassy!’ ‘Lymil, you can’t fraternize with the cats, you’ll get fleas!’ ‘Lymil, if you don’t take things seriously I’m going to have to report you!’ ‘Lymil, you need to stop tracking mud into the building, I just cleaned there!’ ‘Lymil you’re concussed, you can’t go swimming!’”</p><p>“Riiight.”</p><p>“Not like anyone else is better. Grumps! All of them! My brother got reassigned so now I have no other Maormer to talk to. And then they get mad at me for talking to the Khajiit!”</p><p>“Why not just quit?”</p><p>Lymil looked at him like he was crazy, “Can you just ‘quit’ being an Altmer?”</p><p>“No? But I could hop a ship and leave if I wanted.”</p><p>“You don’t have an immortal king talking at your mind.”</p><p>“True…” Vakarion paused, “I think. Well, you said it gets quieter the further away you get.”</p><p>“But I like it <em>here</em>!”</p><p>“Have you perhaps tried plugging your ears with cotton?”</p><p>“Ha ha… Anyway the alchemy shop is…” Lymil looks out from under the building and points upward, “Currently above us.”</p><p>“Lucky.”</p><p>The duo walk back around and up the stairs. When they entered the alchemist shop, they saw the alchemist and his apprentice arguing.</p><p>“Daedric blood! Do you know how dangerous it is in such quantities?!” the alchemist, an old Khajiit with gray around his muzzle, ranted, “And you just sold it all with no question! Did you even get a name?”</p><p>His apprentice, a woman who looked to be… not a Bosmer, the ears and eyes weren’t right, and she had cat-like markings tattoed on her face. She bristled, “You did not tell this one not to sell it! The product was on the shelf! There was no ‘do not buy, this one is bad’ sign on it!”</p><p>“You insolent little-“ the alchemist noticed Lymil and Vakarion standing in the doorway. He cleared his throat and ran a hand down the back of his neck, smoothing the raised fur, “Ah. Customers. Not looking for <em>Daedra Blood</em>, are we?” he asked pointedly.</p><p>Lymil strolled in, either ignorant of the mood or ignoring it entirely, “Nah, not today. I’m actually looking for stuff to make sky-dazzlers.”</p><p>“Sky-dazzlers?” the old Khajiit seemed a bit surprised, but not upset, “Yes… I do believe I have some kindlepitch, at least. And something to use as a dye… and…” he trailed off.</p><p>“Fantastic!” Lymil clapped his hands together and waited at the counter as the alchemist walked about, sifting through the many bottles lining the shelves.</p><p>The apprentice grumbled, grabbed a broom, and sulked to the front of the shop to sweep.</p><p>Vakarion went to stand next to Lymil, but got distracted by a glowing bottle on a nearby pedestal. A bright yellow liquid swirled inside. Vakarion’s pupils dilated slightly as he watched it.</p><p>“<em>Ziss</em>!” the apprentice suddenly cursed, she dropped the broom and kicked it, “Stupid splintery fiend!”</p><p>The alchemist rolled his eyes, “It is not so splintery, you just try to strangle it when you use it.”</p><p>“Khajiit has no pads! No protection for her poor, soft hands like you furry-ones do!”</p><p>“And you are lucky for that! They get so dry, especially when one works with their hands all day… Which isn’t something that you would know anything about!”</p><p>Vakarion snapped his fingers and moved over to Lymil. He put a hand on his shoulder, “Did you hear that?” he whispered.</p><p>“Uh… splinters?” Lymil whispered back.</p><p>“No! Their hands get dry. Remember what you said earlier?”</p><p>“…women like confidence.”</p><p>“No! Y- What job did you say Zali had.”</p><p>“Crates.”</p><p>“Yes… and the old man just said that…”</p><p>“The pads get dry when you work with your hands…”</p><p>Vakarion grinned and nodded, he was so close.</p><p>“Sooo…”</p><p>“So…”</p><p>“I should…” the gears began to turn in Lymil’s head.</p><p>“Yes…”</p><p>“Get Zali…”</p><p>“Almost there!”</p><p>“A pumice stone to remove them with!”</p><p>Vakarion exhaled sharply, “...how about something less extreme?”</p><p>“Lotion?”</p><p>“<em>Yeah, sure, that works</em>.” Vakarion said in a strained voice.</p><p>The alchemist returned with three bottles and a pouch of something that smelled like rotten eggs.</p><p>Lymil looked over to him, “Great! Do you sell any lotion too?”</p><p>The alchemist wheezed and walked back around the counter, grabbed a little pink bottle from a shelf, and returned, “Twenty-seven gold.”</p><p>Lymil reached into his pocket and counted out twenty-three, he leaned over and whispered to Vakarion, “Mind spotting me here?”</p><p>“I’ve been doing it all day, so sure.” Vakarion handed him four gold.</p><p>Lymil proudly handed the gold over and took everything up in his arms; he trotted out of the shop. Vakarion nodded to the alchemist and followed after Lymil.</p><p>They resumed their position beneath the shop; Lymil had already begun assembling the dazzlers. Vakarion watched a while, until a wave of dizziness and a growl from his stomach hit him.</p><p>“Oh right!” Lymil jumped up, “Your lunch! You just finish wrapping these up, I’ll be right back!” he ran off.</p><p>“Wait! How do I-“ Vakarion tried to stop him, but alas, he was gone. He looked down at the dazzler. There were segmented bits of powder on long strips of parchment. It didn’t look… too difficult. Lymil said wrap, so he wrapped up what was there into rolls. The powder would fall out the bottom though, so he twisted the ends closed.</p><p>There was a lot of material left over, so Vakarion poured some of whatever was in the pouch onto a piece of paper. He frowned. It didn’t look like a lot. He shook the bag a bit and… <em>fwump</em>. About half the bag’s contents, a black powder, fell onto the paper. That was okay though! Vakarion grabbed a little bottle and sprinkled whatever it was into the pile. It was a white powder.</p><p>It still didn’t look like enough… and he had messed up with the black stuff… he shook some more of the white stuff into it. He noticed another bottle and dumped the contents into the pile. Then he rolled the whole thing up and twisted off the ends. Vakarion loaded the ‘dazzlers’ into his knapsack, and waiting.</p><p>Lymil soon enough returned with a paper bag and a black eye, “I got you alligator jerky.”</p><p>Vakarion held a hand out, “I will take whatever it is you give me.”</p><p>“Did you finish the sky-dazzlers?” Lymil handed the bag over, “It smells like you did.”</p><p>“Mmhm!” Vakarion shoveled whatever dried, fishy substance was in the bag into his mouth.</p><p>“Great! So here’s the plan! You set them up behind a bush. When I give the signal, light them!”</p><p>“Mkay.” Vakarion swallowed, “I thought Zali wasn’t going to meet up with you, though?”</p><p>“Oh, right…” Lymil thought, “Okay, you pretend to be a burglar, grab her coinpurse, then run-“</p><p>“Why not just… apologize for the letter and take a walk down the beach with her?”</p><p>“Do you think that would work?”</p><p>Vakarion shrugged and gnawed on a bit of jerky.</p><p>“Alright! I’ll try it!” Lymil grabbed Vakarion by the arm and dragged him down to the beach, he looked around and pointed to some young palm trees growing in a cluster, “Set up over there!”</p><p>“Awroight.” Vakarion strolled over, and disappeared behind them, he raised a single thumb up above the leaves.</p><p>“Perfect!” Lymil called and ran off in search of Zali.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Maormer soon found his Khajiiti crush at a dockside tavern, sitting at the bar. He jumped into the seat next to her with a bright smile. She looked to him, sighed, and waved to the bartender.</p><p>“Zali! I-“ Lymil started.</p><p>The bartender walked over. Zali held out her mug for a refill. Once the deed was done she took a long, long drink. Then slowly set the mug on the bar. She leaned back in her chair before regarding Lymil.</p><p>“…you’re mad at me.” Lymil said.</p><p>“Was it obvious?” Zali crossed her arms.</p><p>“Was the letter <em>that</em> bad?”</p><p>“It’s not just the letter, Lymil. Every time Zali sees you, you strut about like a colorful bird in the spring!”</p><p>“And that’s… bad? I didn’t know you didn’t like birds.”</p><p>“No, that’s not-“ she made a frustrated hissing noise, “Zali does not enjoy the bravado. Zali enjoys you when you are as you are, sweet and energetic and kind of stupid. Not pretending to be this… big important soldier man who needs a push-cart to carry around his massive and girthy... <em>tano</em>.”</p><p>“…I wouldn’t say I was-“</p><p>“Do you not remember two weeks ago? Within this very tavern? You walk in, chest-puffed… you spend half the night talking about how grand and exciting your job is and how very, very important you are.”</p><p>“That was… kind of a lie. Yes.”</p><p>“Zali is aware.”</p><p>“I actually hate my job!”</p><p>Zali pressed two fingers to a brow.</p><p>Lymil’s ears drooped “And… I’m… sorry about it. And the… bird-dancing. I thought that was just… what you were supposed to do.”</p><p>“Why did you think that?”</p><p>“It’s how it is back in Pyandonea! You’re supposed to put on a show! There’s this whole courting process with eighteen steps and everything! How else is the other person supposed to know that you’re being genuine?”</p><p>“Hrm. Zali thinks you are being genuine now.”</p><p>“Really?” Lymil’s ears perked up.</p><p>Zali quickly looked away, blast those stupid puppy-dog eyes of his… “Yes.”</p><p>Lymil beamed.</p><p>Zali sighed, “Zali is giving you one more chance. Without these… sixteen-“</p><p>“Eighteen”</p><p>“Eighteen steps.”</p><p>“Great!” he jumped up and took her hand, “I’ve got something for you, come with me!”</p><p>Before she could answer she was whisked away to the beach. Though perhaps dragged is a more apt word. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was a deep reddish-orange. Lymil stopped abruptly and whirled around, handing her the little bottle of lotion, “Tah-dah!”</p><p>Zali was still reeling; she shook her head and took the bottle, “What is this?”</p><p>“A gift!”</p><p>She opened the bottle and sniffed it, “Oh!”</p><p>“…is that a good 'oh'?”</p><p>She nodded, “This one was actually just thinking that she needed some lotion. Th-thank you. She did not expect this kind of thoughtfulness.”</p><p>“That’s not all!” Lymil turned to the palms, “SIGNAL.”</p><p>Everything was quiet a moment, there was some rustling in the palms. Then a massive burst of light and color and a single, resonating</p><p>“SHIT.”</p><p>Vakarion jumped out of the palms, landing face-first in the sand.</p><p>Lymil turned to Zali, grinning and trying to gauge her reaction.</p><p>Zali blinked, and ran a hand down her face. She supposed that she could meet him halfway... Zali looked to Lymil and smiled.</p><p>“Yes!” Lymil raised his hands in the air, victoriously.</p><p>Vakarion was smoldering on the ground, he gave a thumbs-up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've decided that all Khajiit have toe beans with the exception of Ohmes<br/>This is my house and I make the rules</p><p>Also regarding the existence of explosives and cannons using fantasy gunpowder<br/>That one wasn't me technically, but keep an eye out for them because they're a surprise tool that will help us later</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. No answer.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warnings: Death, gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion waved goodbye to Lymil and Zali and headed back up to the mansion. It was just a little after sunrise; surely the Silvenar would forgive him for being a little late. On his way, as he passed through the marketplace, he saw the Green Lady sitting on a pedestal that once was home to a statue ripping the skin off of some kind of giant, green, bipedal lizard creature with a mouth almost as large as its head.</p><p>Vakarion waved to her. She put her middle finger up at him. He frowned and continued onward.</p><p>The Headwoman’s mansion was just as busy as it had been when he first arrived, though this time he was not assaulted by flying pottery. He wandered through the hallways, trying to remember which way the Silvenar’s room was. He had kind of forgotten due to the shard of bowl that had wedged itself somewhere between in skull and his frontal lobe and then wormed its way down and out of his mouth.</p><p>He just pushed that memory out of his mind and remembered looking at the paintings. A waterfall on his left as he entered the hallway. Turn a corner, yep, there was the painting of a savannah… And then the third just outside of the Silvenar’s room. This was the one where he started getting upset. The painting was actually quite lovely, a pastoral scene. There were some mountains in the background, fields of wheat, and some happy little trees off to the side.</p><p>In retrospect it probably wasn’t the painting that made him upset but the sheer abundance of vast empty landscapes that bugged Vakarion. There weren’t even any birds or sheep! He decided not to worry about it and went to open the Silvenar’s door.</p><p>Locked.</p><p>A deep crease formed between his eyebrows. He knocked.</p><p>No answer.</p><p>A cautious dread began forming. He raised his hand to the lock itself. An orange glow and some experimental finger twitches later and he heard a click. He opened the door and was immediately met with the familiar sweet scent of rot.</p><p>Laying in the middle of the floor was the Silvenar. His skin had taken on a deathly gray pallor and was overall mottled. The blood in his body had pooled on the bottom half of his body and stagnated. Rigor mortis had long since come and gone, leaving the lifeless form limp. His stomach was slightly distended as gasses built up internally. Decomposition had set in and foul liquids were oozing from his orifices. That coupled with the hot, humid, and stuffy room had begun to attract large black flies. Their buzzing was the only thing Vakarion could hear over the ringing in his ears.</p><p>He stumbled backward, bumping into the wall on the other side of the hallway. He slid down the wall and covered his mouth and nose with his hand. This did little to block the smell, which was now creeping out into the hallway, mingling with the spicy smell of the air and the post-explosion smells lingering off of Vakarion himself.</p><p>The first person to approach was the maid in the blue dress. She got about halfway down the hall before the smell hit her. She dropped the bucket she was carrying, instantly recognizing the smell. It sloshed onto the ground as she turned and ran to find Harrani.</p><p>The second person to come down the hall was the Green Lady. She was carrying a back of mystery meat and covered in blood. She sniffed at the air. Her eyes grew wide and skin pale. She tossed aside the sack and ran into the room. Her scream of anger and grief echoed through the house. The dull roar of activity from the front room grew quiet.</p><p>The next hour went by with a blur. At first, the Green Lady blamed Vakarion. In fact, she took a few swipes at him with a dagger. He managed to convince her before the fourth swipe that he had been out all day. She stabbed him in the gut, leaving the knife, before storming back into the room to inspect the body for any clues to whoever had done this. Vakarion pulled the knife out and watched the blood fly back to the stab wound from whence it came.</p><p>Onlookers began flocking around the door soon after his wounds had sealed. Guards had to practically beat them away with sticks. In fact, one tried but was stopped by Rahiba, who had shown up just after the crowd. Everyone was herded back out the way they came with much difficulty.</p><p>Once the crowd was dispersed, Harrani approached. She looked into the room and a frown spread across her face. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and exchanged a pained glance with Rahiba.</p><p>Next came the yelling. Two men, one a Maormer in shiny steel armor with an almost glowing blue trim, one an Altmer wearing robes in varying shades of brown and trimmed with a golden material. They were apparently important, as they hadn’t been shooed away with the rest of the riffraff. They looked into the room, and immediately turned on each other.</p><p>Accusations from both erupted from their mouths. The Altmer crying ‘Sea Elf Treachery’, and the Maormer demanding that the ‘Dominion Invaders’ had set this up. Harrani had to physically step between the two to prevent them from coming to blows.</p><p>Rahiba put a hand on Vakarion’s shoulder and led him to her office. She asked him some questions, wrote down his answers, and allowed him to sit a while in the quiet before leaving.</p><p>Vakarion walked out of the office feeling heavy. His mind had gone completely blank. He thumbed the edge of the dagger absentmindedly, not with enough pressure to break skin, but enough to feel the slight bumps and tiny cracks in the metal. He heard shouting in the next office over.</p><p>The Altmer from earlier stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He looked to Vakarion, “You! Are you Dominion?”</p><p>“Uh.” Vakarion opened his mouth to answer.</p><p>“I’m investigating this matter myself! What did you see?”</p><p>“I just- he was-“ Vakarion’s mind reeled, “I opened the door and he was… like that.” <em>Think back to when you left the room</em>. “Uh… I was here earlier. I was leaving the Silvenar’s room, I bumped into a Maormer woman-“</p><p>The mer’s face steeled with conviction, “I knew it. But what would I know? I’ve just been fending off attacks from these snakes for decades. If you find anything else out, report it to your senior officer. I want all hands on deck for this.”</p><p>And with that he left.</p><p>Vakarion barely had any time to recover from that before the Maormer, likewise, stormed out of the office. He saw Vakarion. His face twisted into a snarl and he backed him into a corner.</p><p>“Do you not think I know that this was your doing? I should just kill you where you stand! Do Altmer have no lows they won’t sink to? Killing an ally for a petty jab at us?!” The Maormer stuck a finger at Vakarion’s chest.</p><p>“It wasn’t- I just found him-“ Vakarion tried to choke out.</p><p>“I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and when I do I’ll see you and all of your ‘allies’ hanged!” the Maormer backed away and left, sparing one last glare back at Vakarion.</p><p>Harrani left the room the other two had just come from, she looked to Vakarion.</p><p>“Ah. You were the one looking for a treaty earlier. I’m sorry that you had to walk in on that.” She carried herself with a palpable authority, something carefully cultivated over years of dealing with Maormer, merchants, and smugglers, “I suspect that it was the Silvenar who asked you to procure it.”</p><p>Vakarion nodded.</p><p>“Mm.” she frowned, “You should leave before Ulondil… that is the Maormer who just threatened your life, makes good on his promise.”</p><p>“I didn’t-“ Vakarion started.</p><p>Harrani raised a hand, “I know you didn’t.” she walked back into her office, closing the door behind her.</p><p>Vakarion stood in the hallway a moment longer before finally heading back the way he came.</p><p>First the Silvenar’s room. The Green Lady had barricaded herself in. The robed Altmer banged on the door demanding she let him in.</p><p>Second, the pastoral painting. It really could have used some sheep.</p><p>Third, the painting of the savannah. The browns and yellows sort of blended together.</p><p>Fourth, the waterfall. It was hung slightly askew. He reached up and righted it before continuing.</p><p>Finally he was at the foyer. All eyes rested on him as he walked out the front door. He slowly made his way down the steps. Two paths lay ahead of him. One toward the market, one off toward the docks. The sweet smell emanating from the market made his stomach turn, and he decided to go down to the beach.</p><p>
  <em>It is night, so it should be quiet.</em>
</p><p>Vakarion made it about halfway before a clawed hand touched his shoulder, nearly making him jump out of his skin.</p><p>“Woah, woah. What is wrong my friend?” Razum-dar held his hands up, “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”</p><p>“The Silvenar was murdered.”</p><p>Razum-dar’s ears flattened and his fur stood on end. Vakarion stuffed his hands into his pockets. The heavy silence returned. It hung for a long while, only interrupted by the odd cicada cry.</p><p>“I… see.” Raz held a knuckle up to his mouth a moment, “What do you know about it.”</p><p>“I didn’t see any wounds, and whatever happened, happened several hours ago judging by… what was left. I saw a Maormer woman in the hallway as I was leaving but I don’t know if she was involved. There were two men yelling at each other… Ulondil and an Altmer in brown and gold robes.”</p><p>“Vicereeve Pelidil. He is the Prince’s right-hand.” Raz nodded, “I take it he and Ulondil blamed each other?”</p><p>“Kind of. Ulondil thinks I did it because I was the one who found him.”</p><p>“Scrambling for a scapegoat, no doubt. Is there anything else?”</p><p>Vakarion thought a moment, and slammed a fist into his palm, “I was at the alchemist’s earlier. The shopkeepers were arguing about someone buying a bunch of Daedra Blood.”</p><p>“That… is a good lead. If you saw no wounds, then perhaps he was poisoned… And Daedra Blood would have bypassed both the Bosmer’s natural poison resistance and whatever magic the Silvenar ho- held.” Raz’s tail swished side to side, “Let us go speak to the alchemist then.”</p><p> </p><p>By the time they had arrived, Ulondil had already shown up and was interrogating the alchemist on the docks in front of the shop. He had the old cat tied up and his interrogation methods were less ‘information-finding’ and more ‘coercing a confession’. Apparently he had been able to figure out that poison was used, but had no other leads besides that.</p><p>Vakarion ducked behind a barrel before Ulondil could see him.</p><p>“Raz is going to go prevent this from escalating. Use this to sneak into the shop and see if you cannot find something useful.” Raz whispered to him and walked up to Ulondil, arms outstretched, “Finally! Someone is arresting this charlatan! Did you know that this old man cheated this one out of his hard-earned gold on snake oil?”</p><p>Ulondil was completely derailed from his shouting; it took him a moment to find words, “Away with you, Khajiit! This is official business!”</p><p>“Khajiit sees, and perhaps he can be of use? He has much dirt on this… peddler of potions!” Raz circled around so that Ulondil would face him and away from the shop.</p><p>Vakarion scampered to the stairs as quietly as he could and climbed up them on all fours at one point. He shoulder-rolled into the building and knocked over the table holding the glowing, swirling potion. It flew off, and Vakarion had to dive to catch it before it hit the ground, shattered and gave him away.</p><p>He stood, potion in hand, and wandered the shop. After a few minutes of finding absolutely nothing, he looked behind the counter for a ledger and saw the elf-like Khajiiti apprentice huddled in a ball behind it. He held a finger to his lips.</p><p>“You… were here earlier.” She whispered, “Did you come to arrest this one as well?”</p><p>“No. I just need to know who ordered the Daedra blood.” Vakarion whispered back.</p><p>“Khajiit did not get a name… it was a woman. Maormer. She had silvery hair and her skin was…”</p><p>“Kind of see through?”</p><p>The woman nodded.</p><p>“Thank you. Is there another way out?”</p><p>“Yes. Follow.” She stood and led him to the back of the shop. There was a rope ladder propped beside a window. She unfolded it, fastened one end to the windowsill, and tossed the other end out.</p><p>“Thank you.” Vakarion whispered and climbed down one-handed, he had forgotten he was holding a potion until he reached the ground. He was about to climb back up and return it when he heard Ulondil shout.</p><p>“Enough of this! Your ‘tips’ are of no use, and are, in fact, hindering my investigation!” Ulondil’s voice rang out with militaristic undertones present in it, “This was all a massive waste of my time!”</p><p>The ladder was quickly pulled up and Vakarion scrambled to hide in some palm fronds. He got bad flashbacks to his attempt to make dazzlers. He was knocked out of his daze by Razum-dar who had joined him in the shrubbery.</p><p>“Did you find anything?” he asked.</p><p>“O-oh, yes. The description of the woman matched the woman I saw in the hallway.” Vakarion held the potion up, “Also I accidentally stole this.”</p><p>“Keep it, it may be useful later.” Raz thinks, “So the Maormer sent an assassin to kill the Silvenar. There is motive, the Silvenar had the treaty and was a known member of the Dominion. They most likely did it to prevent him from using it against them.”</p><p>“Okay but… I don’t think any of them knew he had the treaty… except Lymil.” Vakarion tucked the potion away in his bag alongside his last two vials of glowjuice. Which now that he thought about it were kind of useless to him specifically and he kind of felt bad about not giving them to the rest of Firion’s crew.</p><p>“Lymil?”</p><p>“Oh… he was a doorguard I helped reconcile with his Khajiiti girlfriend in exchange for the treaty.”</p><p>Raz blinked, “You did <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“It got me the treaty! And I owed him! It turned out pretty good, I think…”</p><p>“He probably told someone that you took it.”</p><p>“But… they still wouldn’t have known I took it to the Silvenar. And Lymil didn’t look upset at all so I don’t think anyone found out that he gave it to me…”</p><p>“Then perhaps one of the Maormer in the mansion saw you. Or perhaps the murder was planned before the treaty became a factor, to sow further discord within our ranks. They <em>did</em> summon the hurricane that battered our ships.” Raz pointed out.</p><p>“…right, how do you know that anyway?”</p><p>“What do you think old Raz had been doing all along? He has been investigating the Sea Elf mages and captains. They recently collapsed part of a smuggling tunnel attached to Cat’s Eye Quay.”</p><p>“Okay… okay yeah, that makes sense.”</p><p>“And besides. Do you think a <em>Maormer </em>assassin would willingly work for someone other than another Maomer?”</p><p>Vakarion shrugged.</p><p>“Exactly. Now… you go to the Green Lady. Her days are numbered…” Raz pauses, “She and the Silvenar share a life-bond. When one dies, the other is soon to follow.”</p><p>“That sounds horrible.”</p><p>“It is a good thing you and I are not magically-married then, hm? Go speak with her and help her track down the killer. Raz is going back to do damage control for the havoc Pelidil is undoubtedly spreading.”</p><p>“Aye.” Vakarion stood, “I’ll see you soon.”</p><p>Razum-dar nodded as Vakarion, yet again, headed back up to the mansion. This time he took great care to avoid arousing suspicion along the way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Started this one a wee bit later in the day (11:12 pm cst) but that's for two good reasons and one bad reason<br/>Good Reasons:<br/>Reason 1) My lower intestine tried to attempt a coup. It was thwarted<br/>Reason 2) My city got hit by an ice storm and it took like an hour to scrape the ice off a car so we could go to the grocery store (which itself took an hour or so)<br/>Bad Reason:<br/>I downloaded Legacy of the Dragonborn and that mod just scratches my 'hoard EVERYTHING and sort it out' itch in a way not dissimilar to an addict taking heroin after not taking heroin for a week. I just... I really like organizing things. Instant fucking dopamine.</p><p>Oh right, sorry about the My Immortal reference. I cannot promise there won't be any more.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. He was sinking.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Painting of a waterfall, savannah, pasture, room. Vakarion arrived back at the Silvenar’s room. Pelidil had long since left to ‘wreak some havoc’, as Razum-dar put it and the Green Lady was now prowling up and down the hall like a caged animal. She saw Vakarion and stomped up to him.</p><p>“You! You saw who did this, right?!” she crossed her arms and tilted her chin up at him.</p><p>“I… yes. Oh, I know what kind of poison was used too!” Vakarion stepped back from her, “Daedric. And the description of the person I saw matched the person who bought the Daedra Blood and- please don’t stab me again?”</p><p>She scowled at him a moment, “Daedra blood… yes, that’s the smell.” She held a small, blood-crusted needle up, “This was in the back of his neck.”</p><p>“Does it really take so little poison to..?” He took another step back, noting that she had not agreed to refrain from making sweet music with his innards and a carving knife.</p><p>“There was more to the poison than just the Daedra juices. But I do not know or care what else is in it, though. I only want to tear apart whoever made it.”</p><p>“G-great! Well… I’m here to help with that. Kind of? Do you know where to start?”</p><p>“If you can find something that smells of her, I can track the scent.”</p><p>“You can what?”</p><p>“Are you deaf? I need a smell! There’s nothing on the needle or my beloved! If you know her face, then you can find something that belongs to her!”</p><p>“…oh! She bumped into me!” Vakarion pointed to his shoulder, “Right here!”</p><p>“What?! Why did you not say so earlier?! We could have tracked her immediately!”</p><p>“You didn’t say you had a hound’s nose before now!”</p><p>The Green Lady shouted in frustration and jumped up onto him, knocking him back onto the floor. She took a deep, deep whiff of his sleeve. Harrani rounded a corner, stared at them a moment, and walked back the way she came.</p><p>“You smell like fire, the ocean, and Oblivion itself.” The Green Lady jumped off of him, “There are three people’s scents on you, too. One Khajiit, two Maormer.”</p><p>“I hate everything about this.” Vakarion stood, “Yes. I spent yesterday with a Maormer doorman. He probably smells like-“</p><p>“Moonsugar and rosewater, yes. So it’s the other one.” She started sniffing at the air, going in circles a moment before crouching low to the ground and following a path out of the building through the servant’s quarters. Vakarion kept his head down and tried to pretend that none of this was happening.</p><p>They continued like this all around town, circling back to the alchemist shop, up and down the docks a couple of time, to a well, and then to the western side of town, down three sets of stairs. At the end was an old house that clearly had not been in use for a long while.</p><p>“In there!” The Green Lady stood upright and ran up to the door. She hacked at it with an axe until it fell down, and then ran inside, tackling the Maormer woman inside.</p><p>Vakarion made the tactical decision to wait outside. He wondered why he bothered coming along in the first place. Pushing that thought aside, he sat down on a little bridge <em>as if this town didn’t have enough</em> and dangled his feet over the water running below.</p><p>A fish swam around beneath; its scales reflected the moonlight above. Vakarion watched it, tuning out of the world around him and more specifically the muffled sounds of violence coming from the house behind and to his left.</p><p>The fish swam in figure eights for a while. It didn’t seem to be doing anything for any specific reason; it was just playing in the current. Vakarion’s eyelids grew heavy. He leaned his forehead against a railing.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion walked in a dark, starry expanse. Little lights flitted around. Glowing brighter, and then fading out rhythmically. He took a long, deep breath. It came naturally, cold air filling his lungs. He hadn’t realized how difficult it had been breathing lately. Though to be fair, he had only been cognizant for about two and a half days now.</p><p>He wandered around the vast nothing, his mind was still and quiet. That was another thing he didn’t realize he was having difficulty with. Everything, himself included, had been going rapid-fire. Or at least it felt like it had, now that he had a moment to himself.</p><p>A massive mirror-like wall stretched upwards in front of him. He looked up, and couldn’t see the top. Vakarion took a moment to look at his reflection. Gold skin, black hair, and bright green-blue eyes. That was him. He knew it was.</p><p>But there was a subtle but deep feeling of disconnect.</p><p>The reflection became distorted and warped until it was entirely unrecognizable as a person. Vakarion grimaced and turned away. He noticed that the little golden lights had all disappeared.</p><p>He was sinking.</p><p>An inky viscous slime pulled him deeper and deeper downwards into nothingness. Where once there had been cool air, there was heaviness. Vakarion clawed at the substance, trying to pull himself back up, but with each movement he was sucked further and further down.</p><p>His lungs filled with it and burned with white-hot pain. His body became weighed down with the stuff, limbs heavy and unable to move. He sunk further and further until he couldn’t tell if he was still moving or not.</p><p>A pale golden glow began to form several feet ahead of him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A short one for tonight<br/>My back hurts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. ...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Who are you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Mild gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                <em>The being regarded Vakarion with… not quite contempt. It was a bit too detached and numb for that. Disdain, perhaps, would have been the better word. Its hollow gaze pierced through him, looking at something deeper than the scared elf’s visage.</em></p><p>
  <em>Vakarion’s blood ran cold and his ears grew hot. He would have squirmed beneath the gaze of whatever this was, had he been able to move within the thick ooze that surrounded him. His mind reeled with a hundred questions. </em>
</p><p><em>He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. A single question arose among the others swirling in his head, echoing loudly to him and him alone: </em>‘Who are you?’</p><p>
  <em>The being remained as still and stone-faced as it had been. A voice permeated the liquid, vibrating at a deep, deep frequency.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘What you’ve forgotten.’</em>
</p><p><em>Vakarion flinched at the sound, </em>‘I don’t understand.’</p><p>
  <em>‘You will.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And with that, it let Vakarion continue his descent. He sunk further and further away from the golden light. Blackness soon consumed him.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Vakarion woke up face-down in the stream. The fish from earlier was nibbling on the tip of his ear. The moons light seemed brighter than before.</p><p>He sat up and coughed out a considerable amount of water and sand. The Green Lady stood behind him holding the severed head of the Maormeri assassin. She stared at him with real and potent contempt.</p><p>“What the <strong>fuck</strong> was that?!” Vakarion shouted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fuck count: 1</p><p>Also, if anyone wants to suggest tags, please comment them<br/>Because I'm a dumb and forget things often</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. What about me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OKAY SO<br/>The entirety of Texas just kind of froze over and in my area specifically they were routing power to rich neighborhoods (specifically an area where people who RUN the power industry live) and nowhere else. We JUST got power back after nearly 72 hours of nothing.<br/>I found God, discovered religion, and abandoned both.<br/>Anyway so the wifi and water are still down, I'm posting this via cellphone hotspot jerry-rigged to my laptop. I haven't been able to write any more than just the one chapter because... you know... emergency. So I'm putting a pin in 'Every day until May' until everything returns to a relative calm.<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">The stupid had not worn off. If anything it had gotten worse. The horrible death portal in the sky had attracted a crowd of local law enforcement, Dominion cronies, and other onlookers after it had violently exploded. Curinure had to physically pull Vanus and the kid away from the rabble. A quick invisibility spell was enough to get them back to the guild hall.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Once there, he dipped into his office and dispelled the illusion.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Really now, are you still so afraid of public appearances?” Vanus leaned up against the door.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“And do <em>you</em> still have such a small sense of self-preservation?” Curinure snapped.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Vanus waved a hand dismissively, “Please… If this…” he looked to the still very brain-fried Syndiel, “Where did he come from, anyway?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Aaalinor!” Syndiel stood on wobbly legs and saluted, “I got hit over the head and put in a box!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Vanus made a face, “If this lost child could reverse the flow of magicka, then anyone with the most basic of spellcasting ability could do it.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“But-“ Syndiel frowned, “I did the thing…”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Don’t misunderstand me. It’s a very good thing that you did! And the fact that we now know that <em>virtually any mage</em> can do it is invaluable!” Vanus looked back to Curinure and spoke again without missing a beat, “I’ll need to spread knowledge of this, of course. While it won’t stop the root problem, it will certainly slow the Planemeld. We should probably inform the Fighter’s Guild… Gods above I hate that name. They came second, I might add! They plagiarized <em>me.</em>”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Curinure sighed and picked up a quill, “Of course they did. I suppose you’ll be leaving soon to shout from the rooftops?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, no. I’m saving <em>that</em> for our inevitable victory.” Vanus opened the door, “But yes. I’m going to make arrangements. Continue on with your… magister duties.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Tax evasion?” Curinure scribbled random nonsense on a sheet of paper so he had something to look at other than the source of his inevitable aneurism.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Vanus laughed, then closed the door slightly, “Don’t say that kind of thing in front of witnesses.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Syndiel was sulking in a corner, completely crestfallen.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I doubt he even heard you. Go on. I’ll be here.” Curinure drew a large circle on the paper.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Fine, fine.” Vanus went to leave, “By the way, I know what you’re doing. I did it when I didn’t want to pay attention to a lecture.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Once the wizard was gone, Curinure looked to Syndiel, “So. You said you were from Alinor? How did you end up in a box?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Oh!” Syndiel moved to sit across from him, bumping into a side table, “So… there were these three hooded people on the docks. I got hit in the head with something, and then they dragged me onto their boat. I woke up and tried to fight them but they hit me again because I couldn’t cast, and they put me in a crate and some sailors found me, I passed out again, then I woke up upstairs, and then we fought a portal and now we’re here.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Curinure nodded, “Do you need to take a breath?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes.” Syndiel rested his head on the desk, “I felt Oblivion run through me today.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I saw that. You also said that it was coming before it happened. Are you from one of the colleges?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“No. Nobody accepted my applications.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Where did you learn that, then?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Learn what?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Let’s start with the sensing. That typically is a honed skill.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Syndiel sat upright, “My parents tutored me starting from when I was very young. My mother would hide treats around the house that were enchanted so that I couldn’t find them if I looked with my eyes. She was doing a research paper on it, I think.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Curinure’s brow furrowed, “I… see?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Anyway I can’t turn it off now.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“’Turn it off’?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yeah, you know when it’s like… you cast a spell to detect magic and you can <em>feel</em> the shapes of it? It’s like that but always.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I hate to be the one to break this to you, especially while you’re…” Curinure gestured to the still-frazzled Syndiel, “Injured. But that isn’t normal.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Syndiel pouted.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“It’s not a bad thing, <em>clearly</em>. And once you’re lucid enough, I’d like to see if you can’t get me a copy of that alleged research paper.” Curinure tapped his desk, “I suppose if you’re constantly doing… that, then that explains why you jumped to using environmental magic.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“My father uses environmental magic all the time! That’s why <em>our</em> garden’s the best!” Syndiel stuck his nose up, “We never even need to order produce.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Curinure forced a smile, “That’s… nice. Can you tell me their names?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Aastarie and Fyrren of House Noreina.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“…like the wine?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Exactly!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Well… I’ll see if I can’t contact them-“</p><p class="MsoNormal">“You can’t!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Why?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“If I go home… my father will find out that I went outside even though I’m grounded.” Syndiel held a finger up to his lips and made a ‘shoosh’, “Oh and my mother died.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Curinure sighed heavily, “I can’t keep you here without starting an incident. Some noble’s kid runs off… joins under false pretenses… and suddenly we have an entire horde of highborn piss-ants trying to shut us down.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“It’s okay! Nobody likes me so they won’t get mad!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I can assure you that <b>that</b> doesn’t matter.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Pleeease?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“No.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Syndiel scowled a moment… then a wry grin passed over his face, “They’d probably be even madder if you sent me home brain damblaged..”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Curinure raised a brow, “So damaged you thought to blackmail me?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes! And you can’t prove exactly how much head trauma I need to heal from!” Syndiel crossed his arms and leaned back, smug.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Fine.” Curinure huffed, “You can stay until you’ve recovered.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes!” Syndiel clapped his hands together in celebration… then froze, “I FORGOT ABOUT THE ORB!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“The… orb?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“The orb! On the docks! The people who put me in a box had this… <em>orb</em> and it felt almost Daedric but not really and there was a sload-y tinge to it maybe and-“</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Slow down…” Curinure interrupted him, “What were they doing with this… orb?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“They were… two of them were in a boat and they were passing it to a man on the docks.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Do you remember what they looked like?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I remember what the man on the dock looked like. He had kind-of-messy black hair and a beard that went down like this in two little braids.” Syndiel stuck his two index fingers on either side of his chin.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Was he Altmeri?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Syndiel nodded.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’ll pass the information on to the authorities.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“But-“</p><p class="MsoNormal">“But what?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“What about me?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“<em>You</em> are going to recover and then go home. No theatrics, no heroics.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That isn’t fair!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes. It is unfair for me to send an injured and inexperienced noble kid who has clearly never stepped more than four feet outside of Alinor off to fight a supposed cult that may or may not exist.” Curinure stood, “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Syndiel sunk in his chair.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m not carrying you, nor am I expending the magicka necessary to levitate you. Now get up.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m not a child…” Syndiel grumbled.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Then act it.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I broke a Daedric war-machine! I’m allowed!”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br/>
Curinure ended up levitating Syndiel and the chair he was sitting in all the way upstairs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. You mean the rats?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Mild gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion stood on a bridge in a circle of shouting people. He had zoned out a good minute or five ago. Ulondil was there, he was insistent that it had been Vakarion who killed the Silvenar, still. The Green Lady was there, holding the Maormeri assassin’s head. It was a good thing there weren’t any children about. Pelidil had to be physically restrained by Rahibi; he was throwing insult after insult at Ulondil and his entire species. Race. Whatever.</p><p>After a while, Harrani yelled, forcing all of the attention onto herself.</p><p>“You all act like children! Ulondil, do you recognize this woman or not?” she pointed a clawed finger at him.</p><p>“No! She must have come in on-“ Ulondil began.</p><p>The Green Lady interrupted him, “LIAR!” she threw the head aside and grabbed a knife from her seemingly endless supply, “You killed my darling and the Green dictates that you should die in turn!”</p><p>“Just let her do it! Their treachery is not limited to the Altmer, and this proves it!” Pelidil managed to say despite the frothing at the mouth.</p><p>“Absolutely disgusting!” Ulondil snapped, rounding on Pelidil yet again, “You don’t even give me the basic dignity of defending myself!”</p><p>Vakarion blinked out of his trance and looked around, “Do I… need to be here for the rest of this?”</p><p>Everyone glared at him.</p><p>He raised his hands, “I don’t have a dog in this fight! Get off my case!”</p><p>Before the arguments could continue, a massive thundercrack echoed out from the east side of Mistral. Ulondil took a couple of steps back.</p><p>“Now… That is something you can blame me for.” Ulondil said.</p><p>Pelidil shook Rahiba off and grabbed Ulondil by the top edge of his chest plate, “What did you do?!”</p><p>“Do you think we’d just allow <em>our</em> island to fall into the hands of the Altmer just because our <em>renters </em>decided to give it away?!” Ulondil laughed, “You speak oh so much of our treachery, but excuse your own at every turn!”</p><p>Vakarion took a long, deep breath. He pulled a sword off of Ulondil’s hip as he walked towards the noise. “I GUESS I’ll go deal with that!”</p><p>“Wait! You have no idea what’s down there!” Rahiba called after him.</p><p>“If it means I can get out of this conversation, I’ll run back into Coldharbour!” Vakarion disappeared over a bridge.</p><p>The remaining group stood in their circle in silence for a while.</p><p>Harrani cleared her throat, “Rahiba. Take Ulondil down to the dungeons.”</p><p> </p><p>Rain came down, at first in a light trickle, but soon enough in droves. The wind picked up next. It caused large amounts of rain to slap Vakarion in waves as he ran. Speaking of waves, the sea was growing choppy and angry-looking. It was as though it was waiting for an excuse to rise up and swallow the island whole.</p><p>Vakarion arrived at the large stone archway that led to Cat’s Eye Quay. He could barely make out the eye of the storm looming above somewhere just past it. A bright purple electrical beam was connecting the swirling mass to the ground.</p><p>He rolled his eyes and ran into the Quay. Several buildings that he passed were paradoxically on fire, an impressive feat. There were several Maormer about, so Vakarion had to get a bit creative. Only slightly. He ducked under and behind rubble and ran in other’s footprints where possible. Soon enough he arrived at the mouth of a collapsed smuggling tunnel.</p><p>A stone’s throw from it was the area in which the storm was being blasted into the sky. It was surrounded by large, jagged boulders that Vakarion was <em>absolutely positive</em> had been put there intentionally at some point. He began to look for a way up or around when he heard a gurgling from underneath the rocks from the cave-in.</p><p>A Khajiit who was completely shaved from the neck down was half-crushed under the rubble, he reached out towards Vakarion.</p><p>“You… High Elf…” the Khajiit choked out, “There’s a passage into the tunnel… up there.” He pointed toward a burning building.</p><p>Vakarion looked over his shoulder, “In the-“</p><p>“Yes, in there. Look for a hatch.”</p><p>“Got it, is there any way I can..?” Vakarion looked around at the rubble.</p><p>“No. No, there- Just go! Stop the Sea Elves before they drown us all!” The Khajiit hissed.</p><p>Vakarion nodded and ran up to the about-to-collapse house. He peeked through the doorway, and there was indeed a hatch in the middle. Above was a support beam threatening to fall. Vakarion swore under his breath and hit the door frame with a fist.</p><p>The beam collapsed onto the trapdoor.</p><p>Vakarion swore, louder this time, and hit the doorframe again.</p><p>More of the roof collapsed onto the trapdoor. The floor gave way, making a handy entrance into the tunnels below. Albeit a smoldering one.</p><p>Vakarion paused, and hit the doorframe again.</p><p>Yet more roofage fell in, and a comical amount of rain poured down into the hole, extinguishing what fire was left down the hole.</p><p>Vakarion did a fist-pump in celebration and jumped down the hole.</p><p> </p><p>The tunnel was damp, dark, and smelled overwhelmingly of mold. There were piles of waterlogged crates strewn about with varying degrees of water damage. Vakarion could hear footsteps sloshing through water further in. He ducked down and continued moving forward, hiding behind piles of crates and trash as he went. A strategy that had not failed him yet.</p><p>And it continued to work. He passed by several Maormer skulking around the tunnel, and no signs of a cave-in. In fact, the tunnel seemed to be a straight shot from point-A to point-B with only a few alcoves. This bothered Vakarion more than the distant and muffled sounds of the storm. He almost went back to see if he had missed anything but wisely decided against it. His luck was wearing so thin by this point that it was nearly ready to snap.</p><p>And snap it did.</p><p>Once outside of the tunnel, Vakarion arrived at the ritual site. Three Maormeri mages stood around a massive stone circle that had most certainly just been put there. They waved their arms and chanted, as mages are want to do. In the center of the circle was a massive human-shaped collection of floating rocks held in place by purple electricity. From it, a beam of lightning shot up to the sky, swirling clouds billowing forth from that point. Guards wandered around the area as well; a considerable amount of them, too.</p><p>Vakarion took the entire scene in, looked down at his stolen sword, and accepted the fact that he was completely out of his depth. So he jumped into a bush.</p><p>He watched the ritual a few moments. The storm grew ever stronger. Every time a mage seemed to grow tired, a soldier would come over with some water or a towel. Vakarion had two thoughts. One, that there was plenty of water coming from the sky. The mages could have just looked up with their mouths open. Two, if they couldn’t just tag out with another mage… which must have meant that they needed all three to keep the storm going. Right?</p><p>
  <em>Right.</em>
</p><p>Right. Vakarion eyed the mages. There were a few approaches he could take. He could sneak in, stab one, and sneak away before something bad happened… But the area was far too open and there were only a couple crates. He could get to a higher position and take one out from a range… But he didn’t have a bow with him and wasn’t too confident in his sword-throwing. Yet. The third option was to rush in all heroic-like, fight the Maormer off, get stricken down, but unlock a new secret power that would turn the tide in his favor. Then he would vanquish the source of the storm and be hailed as a savior.</p><p>This did not happen.</p><p>Vakarion did not have any third-hour powers. Just the first and second powers and the first was useless as there were no locks. The second one, the not-dying-when-repeatedly-stabbed-or-otherwise-mortally-wounded power… that one helped. He ran in when there was a large enough gap in guards and jammed Ulondil’s sword into a mage’s back and tried to run away. He got about three paces before he himself received a sword to the back.</p><p>He fell to the ground as the large stormy creature roared in laughter. He blinked once, and the other two mages were electrocuted. He blinked twice, and it was fighting the soldiers off as the sky lightened. He blinked thrice, and the creature’s hand gripped him, lifting him off of the ground.</p><p>The sky was blue again.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion awoke some time later several yards away and smelling slightly toasted. The sword was still embedded in his chest. He got up and trudged through the sodden and electrocuted bodies back towards the tunnel.</p><p>A feline form emerged from the tunnel with a smile which quickly turned to one of horror.</p><p>“You… appear to have grabbed a souvenir?” Razum-dar approached him.</p><p>“Huh?” Vakarion looked down, and then laughed, “Oh, right. That. Do you mind helping..?”</p><p>Raz grabbed the hilt, “Do I just pull it out?”</p><p>“Aye.” Vakarion nodded, “Don’t worry. The blood will go back where it came fro-AUGH!”</p><p>Razum-dar yanked the sword free. As Vakarion had attempted to say, the blood quickly floated back into the wound, then the skin sealed back up. It left no scar, as if nothing happened in the first place.</p><p>“That’s rather handy.” Raz said, inspecting the sword, “I should tell the queen of this…”</p><p>Vakarion was doubled over in pain.</p><p>“How long have you been like this?” Razum-dar asked.</p><p>“Remember how I told you I was in Coldharbour?” Vakarion sat down in the wet sand.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“About then.” Vakarion laid down in the wet sand, “Roughly. I think.”</p><p>“…yes, I think old Raz will tell the queen of you <em>immediately</em>.” Raz held a hand out to him, “This sort of… magical happening is far, far above his head.”</p><p>Vakarion gave him a high-five, “Yeah. Me too.”</p><p>Raz’s ears flattened.</p><p>“Oh hey, speaking of the queen.” Vakarion sat up on his own, “So the fleet, the ‘Golden Fleet’… it’s supposed to be… big and important, right?”</p><p>“It is, yes.” Raz pulled him up the rest of the way.</p><p>“Okay, so… is it normal to have it be full of mostly pirates?”</p><p>“Ah-ah-ah… <em>privateers</em>. And Razum-dar understands the concern.” Raz’s voice took on a subtle change, it didn’t sound quite <em>rehearsed</em> but most certainly intentional and careful with each word, “Well… these are Maormer-controlled lands, yes?”</p><p>“I honestly haven’t quite figured out the politics, I wasn’t entirely paying attention he whole time. The Khajiit are… renting from them? I feel like leasing is the better word for it though considering the treaty we stole outlined inhabitance for a longer period of time and with more control over the property than I feel a rent would-“</p><p>“Yes, yes. You are without memory but seem to know much of land agreements. This one is very impressed.” Raz interrupted before Vakarion could go too deep into a real-estate monologue, “The Khajiit live here under the behest of the Maormer who claim ownership. But really… who can claim to own what they do not live on? This is beside the point. These waters are full of Maormer, who are very, very crafty. Why put the <em>entire</em> fleet at risk? This way, as well, the pockets of good Dominion citizens would be filled! At least… until the Maormer attacked unjustly.”</p><p>“…wait, why bring a fleet in the-“ Vakarion’s brow furrowed.</p><p>“For show.” Raz interrupted him again, “And nothing more. Regardless, you read the treaty, you know how unfair the Khajiit here were treated, and how hostile they were towards us! Any good-will there might have been was lost when they took the first jab at us.”</p><p>Vakarion thought that the treaty wasn’t so much unfair as it was kind of petty, ego-stroking, and a little funny (all things considered), but he kept that thought to himself.</p><p>“Right…” he mumbled.</p><p>“And look now! You stopped a second storm! The Maormer left on the island are being… dealt with as we speak.” Raz put an arm around Vakarion and led him back towards town, “To top this all off, Harrani has agreed that Khenarthi’s Roost will join the Dominion as a vassal… on the condition that we help with a little pest problem.”</p><p>“You mean the rats?” Vakarion asked.</p><p>“No, no… surely you remember the bandit issue?”</p><p>“Oh!” Vakarion pushed down thoughts of Hinaamo, “That makes sense.”</p><p>“The Maormer refused to deal with that little issue, whereas the Dominion will take care of it with swiftness and efficiency!” Raz paused, “That… is something you need to work on, yes?”</p><p>“What? I thought that throwing myself at problems until they stopped moving with no combat experience or plan was working out pretty well.”</p><p>“Ha! Raz sees you are developing that classic dry Altmeri humor! This is good, you will fit in better when we arrive in Auridon.”</p><p>“Okay. Can I talk to the queen about the <em>end of the world</em> when we get there?” Vakarion raised a brow.</p><p>“Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. Come now! We’ve a long journey ahead of us!” Razum-dar slapped him on the back as they exited the tunnel.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright lads and lasses, I'm not dead and the emergency's over, last thing we need is water that's actually potable<br/>So let's see if we can't get back on track, I'm not sure if I can manage a chapter a day because 1- sometimes brain want write a LOT all at once and 2- sometimes brain cannot bring itself to do things and 3- I don't want to sacrifice quality by forcing myself to write when I'm feeling stupid<br/>Luckily being quiet in the dark for 3 days with hands too cold to even draw leaves you with nothing to do but think. So I was thinking of plot stuff and hashing out details instead of thinking about the horrible situation I found myself in or more existential bullshit which inevitably creeps its way into my forethoughts if my mind is allowed to be quiet. Anyway I'm gonna see if I can't expedite some of this nonsense by cutting a lot of fat planned.<br/>I've also got like... another Elder Scrolls related project brewing in the back of my brain but it remains an amorphous collection of feelings and ideas loosely strung together for the time being. I at least wanna be in part 2 of this series before fooling around with that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. They won't.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                “Well…” Harrani stood, looking out at Mistral from a window in her office, “That was a rather large series of bungles, was it not?”</p><p>“That is not the word Rahiba would use.” Rahiba crossed her arms, glowering at the Headwoman.</p><p>“Would you prefer I find a thesaurus?” Harrani rolled her eyes, “I played the Dominion like a fiddle with hardly a flick of my wrist, and we got what we wanted. Your little bandit problem will be dealt with, and we’ll never have to host another one of those stupid festivals ever again.”</p><p>“Yes, because the biggest problem here is that the Maormer made us put on stupid little shows for them.” Rahiba grumbled, turning away from Harrani, “Was it all worth bending over for yet another set of elves dead-set on using us?”</p><p>“Cousin… you’re too young and optimistic to see the big picture. This… Dominion won’t last. And long before it collapses under its own bureaucratic weight, it will forget of our tiny island.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>"And when they find out you had one of its diplomat's killed?" Rahiba sneered.</p><p>Harrani glanced at her from over her shoulder, "They won't."</p><p>"Why wouldn't they?"</p><p>"Because they got what they wanted. They will think of it as a worthy sacrifice for the greater good."</p><p>
  
</p><p>"Yeah?" Rahiba huffed, "Well if the 'greater good' keeps asking Rahiba to ignore what's right, then she doesn't want anything to do with it."</p><p>"Cousin... allow me to impart some hard-learned wisdom upon you." Harrani spoke.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Rahiba's ears twitched.</p><p>"There is no such thing as a single, true 'right'. It changes with each set of eyes..." Harrani continued.</p><p>
  
</p><p>"You'd do best to remember that."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am not a furry I am not a furry I am not a furry<br/>I AM NOT A FURRY</p><p>Anyway I expended all my energy drawing that middle panel so the rest is a biiit janky but that's fine <br/>(Also I thought Rahiba had the tiger pattern instead of the jaguar-y one and didn't look until after I drew her sshhh)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. No, that's gross.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Mild gore, Syndiel rant, dick joke</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                The voyage was long and exceedingly dull. Meaning it was absolute torture for Vakarion. He holed himself up in a broom closet for most of it. Aside from the near-overwhelming desire to shout or run or <em>anything </em>to fill the long silences, he felt numb. Occasionally he’d think back to the island and the copious amounts of bullshit that occurred on it, a reasonably large portion of it feeling like it his fault. When he did this, a tingle of anxiety would manifest deep in his gut. Vakarion practiced quashing this feeling. One tactic he discovered was to derail the train of thought and replace it with something else. Another tactic was to try and justify it, replaying Raz’s words over in his head. This did well too. The best tactic, however, was brute force. To simply clear his mind, best he could, and refuse to feel it at all. About halfway through the journey, he got rather good at it.</p><p>---</p><p>Syndiel thought that the Mage’s Guild would provide a welcome retreat from his shitty, boring life in Alinor. He was incorrect. He just traded it for a shitty, boring vacation. That girl he had met apparently told her peers that he was a spoiled noble. So the students began speculation and spreading rumors, of which only some were true and all were awful. Then Curinure had told one of the instructors that Syndiel’s family was in the wine-making business. So the teachers began hinting that a couple of bottles thrown their way every now and then could get Syndiel some rare tomes or lessons. He played stupid and pretended as though he didn’t notice either.</p><p>---</p><p>The last leg of the trip was the worst. Food was running low as there were far more people on board than there was supposed to be, as their boats had been smashed on the shore of a tiny, now insignificant island south of Elsweyr. Vakarion kept mostly to his closet, only stepping out at night when most of the passengers were asleep. The night crew ignored him, so it was a good arrangement. He saw Razum-dar a couple of times, both during meals. He was staying with the captain. Even if Vakarion had been invited, he would have declined. He hadn’t been in a ‘people’ mood at all.</p><p>---</p><p>Syndiel had two days left before the ship that would take him home arrived. He didn’t know whether to embrace it or run from it. He would never have admitted it, especially then. But he missed his father. Not so much Alinor, or the eye-burning architecture, or the rest of his extended family. The jerks. He really didn’t know when he and his father began to drift away, only when it all came to a head. The mere thought of that moment was enough to re-strengthen his resolve and reawaken his stubbornness. He wasn’t in Alinor anymore! So what if a bunch of mages were being assholes? He didn’t <em>have</em> to stay with them. He just needed a plan to weasel out of the ship ride home. As such, he walked down to the docks.</p><p>---</p><p>Vakarion’s ship neared Auridon. Most everyone was up on deck getting in the way of the crew… or in the worst cases insisting that the crew weren’t doing things right and should be doing them the way THEY did on THEIR ships. This resulted in two fistfights and one Bosmer getting suplexed. Vakarion chose to remain below until someone came down to kick him off. A few others had the same idea and they shared the forecastle in awkward silence, listening to the chaos above as they grew ever closer to their destination.</p><p>---</p><p>The docks were packed with bureaucrats. The worst kind of people. Reeves, lords, and ladies of various kinds flitting about making preparations for a festival… or something. Syndiel didn’t know the specifics. All he knew was that his mere presence at the docks, a public place, was irritating Auridon’s entire population of stuffed-shirts who, for some ungodly reason, all needed to be here at the same time. To make matters worse, a galleon, from the Golden Fleet no less, was fast approaching and causing even more of an uproar. According to half of the crowd, there was supposed to be no more arrivals that weekend. According to the other half, the entire rest of the fleet was missing. Syndiel figured both to be true and watched the ship approach from atop a pile of crates. He only occasionally got a dirty look from a noble.</p><p>---</p><p>Finally. Finally they arrived. Vakarion listened to the chaos grow yet more chaotic. After a while some of it sounded like it was getting distant. It was time to disembark. Vakarion waited a few minutes before leaving. He figured Raz would eventually find him if he stayed in town. He stepped out onto deck and looked out to Auridon.</p><p>---</p><p>Absolute pandemonium. And Syndiel was getting a weird sense of satisfaction watching a pack of angry, unwashed sailors collide with nobles who bathed <em>at least</em> twice a day. Nobody really <em>deserved</em> any of this. Probably. But Syndiel had been having a bad time, so he took his entertainment without complaint. A noblelady in an expensive, high-collared dress suplexed a Bosmer. Syndiel figured that she must have been a Battlereeve.</p><p>---</p><p>Vakarion walked off the ship and into the sea of really, <em>really</em> upset people. He stood a good head over a lot of them, and so was able to navigate fairly well through it. Occasionally he would lock eyes with someone else equally or just as tall as him. Through these glances, they would share in a moment of connection not typically held by strangers. One was a Khajiit. He was massive, towering over the tallest in the crowd and looking dead inside. Vakarion and the giant nodded to each other as Vakarion weaved his way to a less dense area and…</p><p>---</p><p><em>Bump.</em> Followed by <em>splash.</em> Syndiel had been knocked from his perch by some asshole who hadn’t noticed him.. SOMEHOW. He surfaced with a loud…</p><p>---</p><p>Fuck. Vakarion had been too focused on the people below and around him that he hadn’t thought to look <em>up</em>. He ran to make sure he hadn’t just accidentally killed someone else. What kind of person would sit on an unstable pillar of boxes in the middle of a crowd?</p><p>---</p><p>An idiot. Syndiel was furious that some idiot who wasn’t paying attention had just ruined his new robes. To make matters worse, they were very absorbent and began to pull him down. He tried to reach for the dock when…</p><p>---</p><p>Vakarion reached down and grabbed the outstretched hand. He pulled the surprisingly light, now-soaked elf up.</p><p>“Gods, I am so sorry I-“ He began.</p><p>“You didn’t see? How?! Are you blind or stupid?” a relatively short Altmer glared up at him from behind a mass of drenched blonde hair.</p><p>“I said I was sorry! It was an honest mistake!” Vakarion looked down at him. He looked like a cat that had gotten stuck outside in the rain.</p><p>“Yeah. And I suppose the Alessian genocide of the Ayleids was ‘just an honest mistake’.” The mer raised his hands in front of himself and shook them for dramatic flair.</p><p>“I have no idea what that is.” Vakarion scowled, “But that’s hyperbole. All I did was bump into a crate.”</p><p>“I already had to deal with one round of head trauma! I shouldn’t have to suffer it again because <em>some people</em> can’t look where-“ the mer is elbowed into Vakarion who has to plant his feet to avoid falling over.</p><p>Vakarion helped the now doubly-pissed elf back to a standing position, “Let’s go talk about this somewhere quieter?”</p><p> </p><p>The Altmer glared at Vakarion from his side of the table. It communicated years of impotent rage being directed solely at him. It would have been intimidating, had the one glaring not had somewhat cherubic features and robes that were two sizes too big, making him look even smaller than he actually was.</p><p>“So… Hi. I’m Vakarion.” He extended his hand towards him again.</p><p>The mer slapped his hand away and jabbed a finger at him, “You’re going to pay for new robes. Got it?”</p><p>“Yeah. Sure. Ones that actually fit?” Vakarion winced the second those words came tumbling out of his very stupid mouth.</p><p>The Altmer turned bright red, stood up, and let loose a long string of what Vakarion could only assume to be insults. They were in another language, though he was able to pick out ‘graxifalas’ and ‘berauta’ a few times each. They couldn’t have been good words considering the passionate emphasis placed on them. Vakarion let him have his rant; it looked like he needed it. Plus he didn’t feel at all threatened.</p><p>This guy, on a completely objective level, was cute. In an ‘angry puppy’ sort of way. Vakarion watched him as he gestured with each crescendo in his speech, sometimes pointing off into the distance, other times at him, and sometimes at himself. He tripped over his words a couple of times, and each flub only fueled the flames of his wrath. Vakarion made the mistake of half-smiling at one of them. Or perhaps not as the mer managed to turn an even more impressive shade of crimson. Nonetheless, he continued until he tired himself out. When that happened, he sat down with a huff, arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears.</p><p>“Alright… I’ll get you new clothes.” Vakarion pulled his knapsack up onto the table and dug through it, “I think I grabbed some money a while back…”</p><p>“<em>Grabbed?</em> Are you a thief on top of an ass?” The Altmer doing his best impression of a tomato asked.</p><p>“No, I’m a <em>looter</em> on top of a chair. Though my ass is involved in that.” Vakarion picked out some coins and a ring from the bottom of the bag, “How much do robes cost?”</p><p>“More than that… Something in there’s glowing.” The mer pointed to his bag.</p><p>“It’s just these.” Vakarion pulled out the glowjuice and the potion he stole, “I’m not selling them.”</p><p>“Healing potions and…” the Altmer sat upright and narrowed his eyes at the bottle of stolen goods, “…that’s either a really, really potent potion for burns, or it makes your penis bigger.”</p><p>“HA!” Vakarion looked at the bottle, “I don’t suppose I should test it and find out?”</p><p>“No. That’s gross.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not burned. It’d probably thicken my skin by an inch.”</p><p>“That’s disgusting and I’m not letting you off the hook.”</p><p>“And I’m still waiting on a name.”</p><p>“Syndiel. How did you wind up on a Dominion ship if you’re <em>clearly</em> some sort of thief?”</p><p>“Because I work for them.”</p><p>“That makes perfect sense but it still fills me with insurmountable rage.” Syndiel said with an cool, even tone.</p><p>“Ha. Yeah. Anyway I don’t think they pay me.” Vakarion put his potions away, subtly using them to slide the coins back into the bag.</p><p>“I’d believe it.” Syndiel waved a waiter down, “Something warm and whatever you have that can make me forget I was ever sitting here, please. Put it under ‘Noreina.’”</p><p>A waiter bowed his head and walked off.</p><p>“So does that mean you’re paying or..?” Vakarion asked.</p><p>“Tab. Family back home’s going to get the bill. Helps having a name you can throw around.” Syndiel leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“Is ‘Noreina’ a magic word or something?”</p><p>“No, smartass. I’m talking noble houses.”</p><p>“Riiight… and Noreina… <em>is a house</em>? With rooms and doors? Is it a mansion since it’s noble?” Vakarion was completely sincere and Syndiel picked up on it.</p><p>“…really? Wait. Was that ‘magic word’ quip a joke or a legitimate question?”</p><p>Vakarion pulled out his ace in the hole, “I was raised in human lands.”</p><p>“They have those there too, moron. Are you a Daedra who didn’t do his research before trying to blend in with us mortals or did you pop out of a tree stump yesterday?”</p><p>“I can assure you that I was not born from a tree stump. And I don’t know you well enough to go into the details of my whole… thing.”</p><p>Syndiel looked at him incredulously, “<em>Your whole thing?</em>”</p><p>“Hey! I don’t know what’s going on most of the time, much less what to call all of it! And I don’t owe some random… shouty-man my life story!”</p><p>“But you do owe me for my clothes. Which you ruined.”</p><p>Vakarion huffed, rolling his eyes when an idea popped into his mind. This was clearly someone who knew how things worked, at least enough to count as a ‘functional adult within a society’. He was also wearing robes, which Vakarion understood to mean ‘magically-inclined’, and that meant he could help with magical problems, such as people needing to be hit with fireballs. Plus Syndiel was rich. And <em>that</em> was the juiciest prospect of all. Money was a far more useful thing than magic, after all. It was a purely pragmatic idea and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the way Syndiel put his entire body into his impassioned speech was incredibly endearing to Vakarion.</p><p>He leaned back, adopting a more relaxed and confident posture “I’ve got an idea. I’m clearly and sorely in need of things like context, and you seem smart enough to provide it…”</p><p>“Are you trying to recruit me?” Syndiel tilted his head.</p><p>“Not recruit. Think of it more like… us being business partners. You travel with me and get a cut of whatever wealth we happen upon, you help me with details.”</p><p>“Uh. Yeah, no. Hard pass. Why would I <em>want </em>to babysit you?”</p><p>“I’m wounded!” Vakarion laughed, “But you’d <em>want</em> to because I’m trying to stop the Planemeld.”</p><p>Syndiel’s ears perked up, “What?”</p><p>“Yeah. I got roped into the whole thing by a blind old man and a giant woman-“</p><p>“<em>What?</em>”</p><p>“I’m trying to explain. I’m supposed to meet the old man here in Auridon anyway, and if you want to see for yourself, you’re free to come along.”</p><p>“You mean to tell me that you’re on an actual <em>quest</em> to stop a Daedric incursion amidst a continent-wide <em>war</em> and you want to involve me, a stranger you pushed into the ocean, to follow you around and act as your personal dictionary.”</p><p>“More or less, yeah.” Vakarion nodded.</p><p>Syndiel thought, mulling the probability of Vakarion not lying his ass off, “I need you to prove you aren’t a lunatic who isn’t going to lead me to a cave and murder me first.”</p><p>Vakarion handed him the Green Lady’s knife and held his palm outstretched, “Do your worst.”</p><p>“Are you joking?” Syndiel inspected the blade, “This is supposed to make you look <em>less</em> crazy?”</p><p>“Just do it before your food gets here. You can work some of that aggression out.”</p><p>Syndiel scowled at him without a trace of amusement on his face and drove the blade into Vakarion’s palm without any hesitation. He let it go and sat back with his arms crossed, “What do you know. I feel better.”</p><p>Vakarion bit a knuckle on his currently uninjured hand, took a deep breath, and pulled the blade free. As expected, blood schlorped back into place andthe wound healed up within about twenty seconds.</p><p>“There…” Vakarion sighed, “Magic… whatever. Bestowed by the Gods or something.”</p><p>Syndiel grabbed his hand, turning it over, poking, proding, inspecting, “What was that?!”</p><p>“I just told you!” Vakarion tried to pull his hand free but Syndiel had an iron grip on it.</p><p>“I’ve never seen magic like that before! That wasn’t even healing magic that was- It was like it went backwards! How did you do it?!” Syndiel was now standing half over the table, staring Vakarion down with wide, intense eyes.</p><p>“I don’t- that’s why I’m trying to hire you! I don’t know! I literally woke up one day, and now I can’t die.” Vakarion finally freed his hand from its prison, “Do you have any idea how painful getting stabbed through the chest-“</p><p>“You what?! Is there a scar? Let me see!” Syndiel made for Vakarion’s shirt.</p><p>Vakarion grabbed his wrists and did his best to hold him back, “No! Stars above, I’m not disrobing for someone I just met!”</p><p>The waiter stared at them, holding a platter. Vakarion and Syndiel quickly returned to a normal sitting position. A plate and a glass of something acrid-smelling were set on the table. The the waiter left.</p><p>“I’m in.” Syndiel coughed as he pulled the plate towards his side, “But I need you to promise me two things.”</p><p>“Okay…” Vakarion smoothed down his shirt, “What are they?”</p><p>“One. I’m supposed to be on a ship headed for Alinor in two days, if I miss it, people will come looking. I need you to help me fake the whole thing.”</p><p>“I think I can manage that.”</p><p>“Two. I want to <strong>study </strong>you.”</p><p>“…<em>study</em>? Do you mean maim me and see what happens?”</p><p>“Not unless you agree to it. Though I’m open to less intensive measures.”</p><p>“You’re getting less intensive measures. No stabbing. You can watch if someone else does it, if you want.”</p><p>“Perfect! Also I’ll need you to answer any questions truthfully and without hesitation. For one, do you need to eat?”</p><p>“Uh…”</p><p>“You’re hesitating, Mr. Vakarion.”</p><p>“I don’t know? I get hungry. Speaking of…” Vakarion reached over and tried to swipe a plum from Syndiel’s meal.</p><p>“Would you be willing to go without food for a while so we can see?” Syndiel blocked him with a fork.</p><p>“No. I don’t know how far the ‘not dying’ thing goes and I don’t want to push it if I can help it.”</p><p>“Fine.” Syndiel sighed and removed the fork, allowing the plum theft.</p><p>This was a mistake, as in Vakarion’s language, Syndiel had just permitted him to steal food from him whenever he wanted. A permanent thing that could not be rescinded. Vakarion grabbed another plum.</p><p>“Yeah. So… I’ll see if I can’t get the old man ghost to show up again. Do you have a place I can crash at?”</p><p>“…I’m staying at the Mage’s Guild.” Syndiel thought a moment, “Actually… there’s someone you’re going to want to talk to, Hero.”</p><p>“Haaahhh… Don’t call me that. Ever.” Vakarion took Syndiel’s drink.</p><p>“Sure. Villain then?”</p><p>“No, that’d be Molag Bal. What about ‘Dashing Rogue’?”</p><p>Syndiel laughs, “Not on your life. Now. Let’s talk about you being in the Dominion.”</p><p>“Not so much ‘in’ as ‘forced to work with’.”</p><p>“Still. I hate it and everything it stands for with every fiber of my being.”</p><p>“Aaand… what does it stand for?”</p><p>“Oh, you know, conquest, murder, pillaging, ignoring the fucking Planemeld, brainwashing people into believing that everything’s okay when it isn’t, getting the Queen-Bitch, known human-hater, to become Emperor of Tamriel.” Syndiel stood up and began talking with his hands acting as punctuation again, “The SAME Queen-Bitch-Asshole who disappeared, leaving her family with no word, and came back AFTER her father died and demanded that she become queen because she was daddy’s favorite. Again. The father who DIED without ever finding out where she went! I’m not even <em>involved</em> and it pissed me off as if I was a part of the royal family! There’s a whole system and several ceremonies you need to go through before being made king or queen, and it takes years! Her brother was already going through it when she popped up out of the fucking ether all like ‘oh, nobody will care if I just bypass everything and usurp the throne, tee hee!’ <strong>I care!</strong> I care with every fiber of my being! It’s a well of hate that runs deep and wide and is constantly replenished each time I hear of some bullshit new law she passes on a whim or some stupid military decision with ZERO input from <em>anybody</em>! She’s a tyrant with no respect for anyone, and <em>that’s </em>who the Dominion wants to be Emperor?! You could put a fancy wig on a pig and teach it table manners and it’d do a better job as Emperor than her! And that’s not even getting into that Breton idiot Oblivion-bent on getting as many of his own men killed as enemy soldiers or what’s-his-face who is barely even a PERSON! He’s that useless to the Pact! I asked five people on the street what his name was once, and <strong>only</strong> <strong>one</strong> knew it! Two of them thought <em>Vivec</em> was in charge!”</p><p>A balding Altmer had walked in about halfway through Syndiel's manifesto and listened with great interest. When Syndiel sat, he left the room, a slight smile on his face.</p><p>“That’s… hm.” Vakarion quashed the rising anxiety, “Well… I’m withholding judgment on the queen until I meet her in a day or two. You can’t expect me to take all of that as truth with no question.”</p><p>“You’re going to meet her?” Syndiel blinked.</p><p>“Wh- I mean- Yes. I was going to talk to her about the Planemeld and…“ Vakarion sunk a bit in his seat.</p><p>Syndiel burst into laughter, “Ha ha- You think- HA! You honestly think she <em>cares?!</em>” he nearly falls out of his chair.</p><p>Vakarion’s ears burned scarlet, “Yeah, well… she might listen! You don’t know!”</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Tell me how it works out.” Syndiel wipes the corner of his eye, “Actually, I want to see your face when you realize that everything they’ve spun you is completely wrong.”</p><p>“I’m not stupid! I went with what they told me because it’s the path to the best ending! If I didn’t, a bunch more people would have died than-“</p><p>Syndiel tilted his head, “Mr. Vakarion, do you mean to tell me that you committed a warcrime?”</p><p>“How can you have crimes in war? Firstly. Secondly… no! I did what I had to!”</p><p>“Okay. <em>Firstly</em>." Syndiel mocked Vakarion’s voice, “I can recite <em>Battlereeve Anyalarie’s Fifty-Two Rules of War and Battle Etiquette</em> off the top of my head, and that treatise influenced several laws that citizens of Summerset and especially those in its military are to follow during wartime.  <em>Secondly</em>. Sure. Tell that to the dead bodies.”</p><p>“It wasn’t even humans or whatever the Dominion’s fighting! It was Maormer!” Vakarion’s voice went up an octave.</p><p>“Oh, well, <em>that’s</em> okay, then.” Syndiel spoke in such a way that Vakarion couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.</p><p>“You know… the know-it-all thing is starting to get grating.” Vakarion stood up, swiping a potato off Syndiel’s plate as he did.</p><p>“You specifically asked me to tag along because I know it all.” Syndiel grinned, standing, “I’m sure Curinure will let you stay. If not, I’ll just smuggle you up through the window.”</p><p>“Good… maybe you can recite that treatise if we get bored in the night.” Vakarion grunted and proceeded to leave with his hands in his pockets.</p><p>Syndiel followed. As he went, he felt a paper get pressed into his hand. He looked around and saw a balding Altmer walking away. The note read:</p><p>                “<em>You see beyond the veil. Meet us beneath the largest pier when the moon is highest.</em></p><p>
  <em>                                -A friend”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I wrote and edited this before drawing the previous chapter's panels and was like 'hmmm, maybe I could wait a bit before releasing this one<br/>and then I thought fuck it so 2-for-1 deal today<br/>Anyway now we got these idiots together so things are going to go from like a fifteen to a hundred here in a couple chapters</p><p>Sidenote: I want to rewrite chapters 1-17 at some point and if anyone has any ideas on how to go about making them better you can go ahead and send me a message over on my tumblr. Same name as on here. Please don't put any in the comments just for the sake of not spoiling anyone or whatever</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Stupid... moons.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Curinure was enjoying exactly zero of any of this. It was bad enough that he had let Syndiel, and his incredibly yet unintentionally destructive self wander the halls of his guild, but this new mer he dragged in was even worse. He stood a good head taller than most everyone else and a lot of things like doorways and furniture were not built to handle him. It was nearly as bad as when a Pahmar-raht tried to enroll. Everything was already built with tall Altmer in mind, but the universe seemed determined to throw even taller things at poor Curinure.</p><p>He acted oddly too. Simultaneously like a thief, eyeing things up and sticking to the side, and like a small child who had never seen an alembic before. At least he wasn’t clumsy, like Syndiel. Who, on the subject of he, didn’t seem to even get along with this strange man he brought back. They bickered as though they were lifelong rivals, and while that sort of behavior was generally considered as ‘good’ in Altmer society, as competition breeds improvement, it did nothing for Curinure’s migraines.</p><p>Luckily, so long as Syndiel’s attention was held, he didn’t wander. And Syndiel not wandering meant that Curinure’s collections would remain un-smashed. Just one more day and one of his headaches would go away…</p><p>Someone set a package on his desk, the seal bearing the insignia of House Noreina and smelling faintly of grapes. He opened it; a large sheaf of papers containing several essays stared back at him. The topmost read ‘Studies on Magicka’s Effects on Infant Development’. Curinure knew in that moment that he’d be staying up late, and he would walk away from it angry.</p><p> </p><p>Stunted growth.</p><p>Headaches.</p><p>Delays in maturity.</p><p>Temporary loss of sight.</p><p>Irritability.</p><p>Anxiety.</p><p>Fever.</p><p>Nightmares.</p><p>Night terrors.</p><p>Hallucinations.</p><p>At the end of each report was a long list of outcomes of the various experiments. All written with clinical apathy and detachment. The saddest thing was that anyone could guess the endings without actually having to follow through with tossing a baby through a portal once a week or having a ten-year old drink magicka potions with each meal.</p><p>The more he read, the more he felt as though the person behind the papers wasn’t even particularly interested in the possible knowledge to be gained, but just wanted to see what happened in a child-pulling-apart-insects-to-see-what’s-inside kind of way.</p><p>Curinure was halfway through one of the final essays when the subject walked in.</p><p>“Hey, I’m going to step out tonight for-“ Syndiel paused, looked down at the desk and with absolutely no hint of negativity in his voice continued, “Oh, you got my mom’s research!”</p><p>“Yes. I… Was she by chance employed by-“ Curinure began.</p><p>“The Thalmor, yes. Why?” Syndiel picked one of the papers up, skimming it.</p><p>Curinure blinked, “No, actually, that wasn’t my first guess.”</p><p>“…really? What was?”</p><p>“I was going to guess the Sapiarchs or a college.”</p><p>“I mean, she <em>was </em>a teacher but that was more of a side thing.” Syndiel traded the paper out for another, “If you think <em>this</em> is impressive you should see the stuff they’re working on now that King Hidellith is dead. It’s like a dog running without a leash; it’s wild.”</p><p>“I’m… not entirely sure what to do with that information. Can you tell me more of what they’re working on?”</p><p>Syndiel sat grinning, “I mean… I could. But I need to enjoy my last night of freedom before I get shipped back home.”</p><p>“Fine.” Curinure sighed, “I’ll add an extra day.”</p><p>“Fantastic!” Syndiel clapped his hands together, “Okay, so you know Welkynd stones? There’s been a lot of study into how the Ayleids used them, there’s this lady… Kor- Koka- I don’t remember her name but she’s trying to apply those principles to enchanting so instead of using souls, a very unreliable energy source, with starlight. Aaand then there’s this one guy working on head transplants with goblins.”</p><p>“Who on Nirn would need to transplant the head of a goblin?”</p><p>“I dunno. I think he’s trying to figure out if magic comes from the head or the body or… something. He’s a quack though; everyone knows magic is stored in blood until you die.” Syndiel leaned back and thought, frowning, “I feel like there’s something about a metal man, but that was… super-classified I think.”</p><p>Curinure nodded.</p><p>“And all of this is only the research division. Queen Ayrenn has expanded the whole operation. A lot. They’ve got assassins and moles and soldiers…”</p><p>“I was under the impression they were initially just an organization dedicated to safeguarding the collective heritage.”</p><p>“Yeah, and the Sapiarchs are <em>just</em> interested in proper silverware placement.” Syndiel rolled his eyes, “<em>Preserving heritage</em> doesn’t mean they sit around fixing antiques. Obviously.”</p><p>“Obviously…” Curinure began to organize the papers, “It’s so nice to know that there’s <em>yet another</em> overfunded wing of government trying their hands at playing the part of a god.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“…don’t worry about it.” Curinure was beginning to rethink sending this kid back at all.</p><p>“Yeah, well. I’m going to go meet someone. Vakarion’s up in my room.” Syndiel stood up, “He was asleep when I saw him last.”</p><p>“One last question, if you would.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Do you have any… negative memories of any of these experiments?” Curinure held up the stack of paper.</p><p>“No. Not really. Bye!” Syndiel left.</p><p>Curinure ran a hand down his face and pulled a bottle of whiskey from his bottom-left desk drawer.</p><p>---</p><p>The moons hung high in the sky, bathing all below in a soft glow. A single beam filtered through the curtains, hitting Vakarion in the eye. He got up with a grunt to pull them shut.</p><p>“Stupid… moons.” He grumbled.</p><p>
  <em>I’m not fond of them either.</em>
</p><p>Vakarion stopped, took a deep breath, and went back to bed.</p><p>---</p><p>Syndiel strolled down to the pier specified in the note. There was no one there. He looked up and the moons were at their highest. He checked the note again. It said ‘moon’ but didn’t specify which. He looked up again and Secunda was a tiny bit higher than Masser. Syndiel crumbled the note and chucked it into the ocean.</p><p>“Smartass.” He sat on a box and waited for someone to show up.</p><p>Syndiel watched the stars travel across the sky, the Serpent was starting to peek over the eastern horizon, so within the next few weeks some kinds were going to be born with some very, very weird abilities. Or just terrible luck. One of the two.</p><p>He looked towards the west, the Apprentice, the sign he was born under, was partially obscured by a cloud. It was all for the better. It was a crummy sign. Why couldn’t he have been born under something more interesting, like the Atronach or Mage. He had heard tales of the stars falling from the sky and taking physical form… but all were up there and accounted for. So they must have been just that, tales. Stupid ones at that. And Syndiel learned very early on that there was no place for such flights of fancy.</p><p>Two sets of footsteps approached. He looked towards the sounds and saw the old man from earlier alongside an Altmer woman with a long blonde ponytail and way, way too much armor for a walk on the beach. Syndiel waved to them. The woman seemed incensed at that.</p><p>“You brought me a child?” she glared at the man.</p><p>“He’s old enough to drink, and he went on this long, very loud speech about how he hated the Queen. You need what help you can get, Astanya.” The man said dully.</p><p>“Hi, yeah, that was me.” Syndiel jumped off the crate, “So, are we assassinating the Queen or am I joining a secret society?”</p><p>“He picks up on things fast, too.” The man gestured towards him. Syndiel’s ear twitched.</p><p>“Great… have we really fallen so low as to honestly consider someone barely an adult? Whatever. Boy, can you follow orders?” Astanya stepped toward him.</p><p>“I’m thirty-three.” Syndiel held a finger up.</p><p>Astanya looked surprised, “What? Did you grow up malnourished?”</p><p>“You don’t look a day over… maybe twenty.” The old man looked him up and down, “Younger, even. Those robes don’t help.”</p><p>“Hey We can hit growth spurts well into our forties!” Syndiel tried to stand a bit taller, “I’m just a late bloomer! I’ve got… I have plenty of time to catch up!”</p><p>“Adorable.” Astanya said dryly, “Can you follow orders?”</p><p>“…yes.”</p><p>“And you hold no love for the false Queen?”</p><p>Syndiel’s ear twitched again, “None whatsoever.”</p><p>“Good. Your eyes look like they work well enough and our lookout was unfortunately…” Astanya trailed off.</p><p>“Captured, eh Guard Captain?” the old man smirked.</p><p>“Shut up.” She gave him a dangerous look.</p><p>“Oh.” Syndiel tilted his head slightly, “So… uh, who’s ‘we’?”</p><p>“We are the Veiled Heritance. As soon as you’ve proven yourself, you’ll be properly inducted, and then whoever’s problem you become will explain the rest.” Astanya stared Syndiel down, “What’s with that look on your face?”</p><p>“What? Oh I just… I feel a weird sense of déjà vu.”</p><p>“Poor boy, you must get passed around a lot by those who don’t respect your talent.” A woman’s voice came from seemingly nowhere. Astanya looked to the old man who pulled an amulet out from his cloak.</p><p>“My lady… have you been listening?” the man asked it.</p><p>“Well of course!” the voice came again, it was saccharine and warm, the voice a mother would use to speak to a child, “I love hearing about our newest prospects! Do allow me to speak with him?”</p><p>Astanya grunts, “We’re running out of moonlight.”</p><p>“So stern, Astanya!” the voice tsk-ed, “Anyway… what is your name?”</p><p>“Syndiel.” Syndiel responded.</p><p>“Oh? Would you happen to be of…”</p><p>“Yes. The grape people. No, I can’t get you any wine for free.”</p><p>The voice laughed, “Don’t worry, dear. I wasn’t going to ask. How is it that someone such as you ended up so far, far from Alinor?”</p><p>“Cultists hit me over the head and put me in a box.”</p><p>Silence filled the air for a long minute.</p><p>“Well! That’s unfortunate!” the voice spoke, “Astanya, do be careful not to lose this one.”</p><p>There was a short beep and the old man pocketed the amulet, “That’s that, then. You two do be careful. And, Syndiel was it? I hope to see you on Errinorne.” The old man waved as he left.</p><p>“…so.” Syndiel looked to Astanya, “Do you all have… like… a manifesto or some pamphlets I can read or-“<br/>
Astanya grabbed him by the forearm and dragged him down the beach.</p><p>“Yeah, okay, or we can just jump into it. That’s fine too.” Syndiel said as he struggled to keep up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Expect the next update to come a bit late, I need to replay all of Auridon again. Or at least the bits I forgot about. Same with the rest of the Dominion vanilla zones because I realized exactly how little of them I remembered, even when compared to Auridon. I have all the DLC zones I'm going to be including completely outlined in my brainspace but as it turns out, I can't remember ANY of what happens in Greenshade with one exception, and that exception might have taken place in Grahtwood. It involves boats. I don't know if this is my memory being bad or if there really isn't anything particularly interesting that happens in them but I guess I'm going to find out.</p><p>The only problem is that I really don't want to replay those zones because questing in ESO is just... dull on an almost fundamental level to me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that ESO doesn't reward you with jack nor shit for most of its content which is a really, really weird problem for an MMO to have and an EVEN WEIRDER problem for an Elder Scrolls game to have.</p><p>Also... woo! 20 chapters!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Gee, that must be terrible.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Death, talk of gore, old man with a lot to say</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion wandered around the vast, empty dreamscape he had come to know. Each time he felt himself begin to sink or saw some odd lights off in the distance, he’d turn around. It was rather irritating. A chosen hero so insistent on avoiding things as simple as prophetic dreams… Disappointing, to say the least.</p><p>One would think that someone would approach his position with the kind of reverence and respect it deserved. Or at the absolute minimum show a modicum of excitement.  But no, the world was stuck with him.</p><p>“Oh my gods, would you get off my case?!” Vakarion shouted upwards, he then paused and wondered what it was he was yelling at. He would never find the answer.</p><p>He awoke in Syndiel’s room early in the morning, beating the sun by a good hour or so, and irritated for a reason he couldn’t quite remember. Thus, he wandered downstairs to look for something to drink. During his pointless wanderings, he bumped into Curinure.</p><p>“Pardon me… I was just-“ Vakarion began, but paused when he smelled alcohol on the air, “Are you drinking?”</p><p>Curinure, tolerant to alcohol to the point of absurdity, held up a half-empty bottle with no sway nor shake, “Yes. Would you like some?”</p><p>Vakarion stared at the bottle a moment, shrugged, and took it. He forced down the bitter liquid with a shudder, “Thanks.”</p><p>“You’re the… er…” Curinure thought, “’Friend’ that Syndiel brought back, yes?”</p><p>“Friend is a strong word. We just met and he’s kind of an ass.” Vakarion handed the booze back.</p><p>“His behavior is no worse than most from Summerset. If anything he’s actually less unpleasant.” Curinure pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped down the rim of the bottle, “I take it you aren’t from around here?”</p><p>Vakarion shrugged.</p><p>Curinure, fearful at the prospect of dealing with yet another person whose background and trappings would drive him towards a stomach ulcer, frowned, “Is… that so?”</p><p>“Not sure how much I can really tell you… but you seem kind of important and in a position of power…” Vakarion sized the older mage up, “I got farted out of Coal-Harbor with no memory according to my friend, he’s a Khashiit and an old guy wants me to fight Molab Bald… Or something. I’m not too sure. My friend, same one I mentioned, said he was going to get me an audience with Queen Ayrem and that she would help but I haven’t seen him since I got here so…”</p><p>Curinure stared at Vakarion. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that any of this was remotely possible, given the fact that he fought the sky not a week ago, or the fact that this apparent hero got every single proper noun incorrect. He took a drink.</p><p>“Okay.” Curinure spoke, “Do you know of a man named ‘Mannimarco’?”</p><p>“No? Why, is he important?” Vakarion reached for the bottle again.</p><p>Curinure handed it to him with a huff, “Mannimarco. King of Worms. First lich to make it out with his face intact. He <em>caused the Soulburst</em> and is the second biggest driving force of the Planemeld, only behind Molag Bal himself.”</p><p>“Nope. Never heard of him.” Vakarion did not drink anything, he just swirled the liquid around.</p><p>“How did you arrive in Coldharbour, then?”</p><p>“I dunno.”</p><p>“Who is this old man you mentioned?”</p><p>“I dunno.”</p><p>“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”</p><p>“Not an inkling, sir.” Vakarion finally drank, “I’m taking Syndiel to see the old guy tomorrow, if you want to come along and see that I’m not just making all of this up.”</p><p>“Yes… I think I will do just that.” Curinure thought, “Gods above, I’m going to have to tell Galerion, aren’t I?”</p><p>“Yes. Also, who’s that?”</p><p>“…Auri-el guide me.” Curinure pinched the bridge of his nose, “If you turn out to be wasting my time…”</p><p>“I can’t promise that.”</p><p>“Lovely. I’ll be in my office. Syndiel knows where it is.” Curniure began to walk off.</p><p>“Alright. Hey where’s the food?” Vakarion calls after him.</p><p>“Down that hall and to the right.”Curinure waved a hand.</p><p>Vakarion ran in that direction. He tripped on a rug.</p><p>---</p><p>Syndiel yawned. The sun was beginning to rise and it was dead silent. His hood was up, so he was warm and comfortable and really, really wanted to go to sleep. He had been told to watch the door of the Temple… several hours prior. What were they even doing in there?</p><p>One peek wouldn’t hurt; Syndiel turned to open the door when he heard a sound coming from the right side of the temple. He paused, and pulled his hood back slightly, exposing an ear as he opened the door. Once he stepped inside, he heard creaking glass. He bolted into the temple.</p><p>Syndiel found Astanya and two other Altmer inside. He tackled Astanya, clapped a hand over her mouth, and cast a spell enshrouding the two of them, rendering them invisible. She tried to push him off, but froze when she saw a Khajiit in black leather slitting the throat of one of her co-conspirators. The other went down just as fast.</p><p>The Khajiit prowled the room a moment, before he heard a shout from outside. He ran from the building, leaving Syndiel and Astanya alone. She shoved him away as the spell faded.</p><p>“Why did you do that?! We had him outnumbered!” the Guard Captain snapped at the mage.</p><p>“What?” Syndiel stood, “No thanks for <em>saving your life</em>?”</p><p>“There were four of us! Your job was to watch for intruders and warn us of them so that they could be dealt with. Was that so difficult to understand?!” She towered over him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but I thought my orders were ‘Stand here and don’t fuck anything up’. I extrapolated the fact that you wanted me to stand watch on my own!” he stood as tall as he could, arms crossed, “And-“ Syndiel blanched and looked to the dead bodies, “Oh my stars, I just watched two people die.”</p><p>“Tch.” Astanya walked past Syndiel and knelt by the corpses, “These were good men. Loyal. That dirty little-“ she balled her hands into fists, “I’ll skin that cat alive and pin his pelt where everyone in Vulkhel Guard will see.”</p><p>“Uh-huh… yeah.” Syndiel pressed his back against a wall.</p><p>“Vermin, the lot of them.” Astanya pulled rings from each body’s fingers, “Get out of here before I have to arrest you.” She threw a ring at him, “I’ll find you, and we’ll discuss your punishment later.”</p><p>Syndiel caught the ring and stumbled out of the temple; he ducked into some bushes and tried to steady his breathing. It took a long while, but he eventually managed it. He was about to stand when he heard a familiar voice.</p><p>“Raz? You there?” Vakarion called as he wandered the gardens between the temple and the manse across the way, “Did you do that weird magi-WOAH!“</p><p>Syndiel pulled him into the bush, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I thought I saw my friend and- Oh, hey, I was looking for you too! We’re about to head down to see the old man.” Vakarion brushed a leaf off of his shirt.</p><p>“Wh- y- I- What do you mean ‘we’?” Syndiel managed to ask.</p><p>“I’m bringing your boss.” Vakarion stared at him a moment, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”</p><p>“Two new ones…” Syndiel muttered, “Why are you bringing Curinure?”</p><p>“Because he’s in charge of a bunch of wizards and I figured he could help with the whole ‘save the world’ thing. Why, was I not supposed to tell <em>anyone</em>?” Vakarion said that last bit with a tint of bitterness.</p><p>“No, no, I- I’m just.” Syndiel put a hand on Vakarion’s shoulder, “I am going to throw up.”</p><p>“Oh.” Vakarion watched as Syndiel moved to puke in another part of the bush, he patted his back “Uh… there there?”</p><p>“’<em>mfine</em>.” Syndiel grunted and slapped his hand away, “Let’s just go.”</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t-“ Vakarion frowned and shook his head, “Yes. Let’s go.”</p><p>They exited the bush.</p><p>“So… where is this old man anyway?” Syndiel glanced at Vakarion sideways.</p><p>“I don’t know! That’s why we got up early!” Vakarion took him by the arm and pulled him along.</p><p>The two met up with Curinure and spent the better part of the morning searching for the frequently aforementioned old man. Vakarion had really been given little to go off of aside from ‘In Auridon’, but luckily he had two mages with him, one of whom being a magicka bloodhound. Syndiel was able to pick up on residual energies stuck to Vakarion, compared it to the feel of the energy from the Dark Anchor, and was able to pick up a trail of similar magic leading to a cave near the southeastern shore, just past the docks.</p><p>Which is a whole lot of words to say, they eventually found the cave.</p><p>“Okay. So, he’s blind that’s thing one you need to know about him.” Vakarion said as they made their way through a tunnel filled ankle-deep with sea water, “The second thing is his magic looks like moths.”</p><p>“Interesting.” Curinure sighed, he was too tired for this.</p><p>The group rounded the corner to see an old human in tattered robes sitting in a chair facing away from them inside a large circular chamber thankfully free of standing water. Syndiel squeaked and ducked behind a rock.</p><p>Vakarion opened his mouth to say something but Syndiel aggressively mimed at him and Curinure to stay quiet.</p><p>“Vestige?” the old man stood and turned around, “Is that you?”</p><p>“Vest- oh right. Yeah that’s me.” Vakarion walked up to him, “I brought…” he looked back to Curinure, “Uh, this here is the leader of the Mage’s Guild in Vulcan Barred.”</p><p>“Vulkhel Guard.” Curinure corrected as he approached cautiously, “And you would be-“</p><p>“Vestige, why did you bring someone here? You were to come alone.” The old man was angry, but his voice didn’t raise in volume.</p><p>“…was I not supposed to? You never said-“ Vakarion began.</p><p>“It’s been done.” The old man interrupted him and faced a little bit to the left of Curinure, “I am known as the Prophet, these days. You are not to speak of our meeting, am I clear?”</p><p>“Of… course.” Curinure moved a bit so that the old man was ‘looking’ at him, “Is what our mutual acquaintance here said true? That you’re trying to stop the Planemeld?”</p><p>“Aren’t we all?” the Prophet asked.</p><p>Everyone was quiet.</p><p>“…a fair point.” The Prophet sighed, “But yes. Now… what took you so long to arrive, Vestige?”</p><p>“Okay, so I was on an island, right? And these… uh… there was- So some people were trying to make a hurricane and- I got stabbed at one point and-“ Vakarion struggled to get his words from his brain to his mouth, “Oh! I got recruited by the Dominion!”</p><p>Silence filled the air yet again.</p><p>“I-is that bad?” Vakarion frowned.</p><p>“We do not need any more distractions than necessary.” The Prophet turned and walked to the center of the cave, “I am going to pull you into my mind and show you the events that preceded the catastrophe we find ourselves in.”</p><p>“Can he come?” Vakarion pointed at Curinure.</p><p>“Why would-“</p><p>“Because he’s smarter than me and more likely to remember the details.”</p><p>“Very well, then.” The Prophet raised his staff and tiny, nowhere-near-as-opaque-as-they-should-be moths swarmed the trio. After a moment, a flash of light, and all fell to the ground unconscious.</p><p>Syndiel peered out from behind the rock.</p><p>“What the fuck?” he said softly.</p><p> </p><p>The mage, the Prophet, and the Vestige woke up standing atop a massive floating rock almost exactly like the ones Vakarion had seen in Coldhabour. As did the clouds surrounding them. Mammatus, occasionally lit up by flashes of lightning because Molag Bal is as subtle as a brick thrown through a window.</p><p>“Where-“ Vakarion looked around, “This looks like…”</p><p>The Prophet began walking down a spiraling path, “My story began when I awoke on the steps of the Abbey of the Moth Priests, with no memory of my prior life.”</p><p>“Gee, that must be terrible.” Vakarion said flatly, not yet realizing the fact that he would have to endure a torture so great, it is enough to make even the gods shudder. An old man rambling about the past.</p><p>“The Moth Priests took pity upon me and-“ The Prophet continued and Vakarion zoned out.</p><p>He occasionally tuned back in to check if he was still talking.</p><p>“-Elder Scrolls, and devoted-“</p><p>Dear Gods this man walked slowly. Vakarion had to take short steps so as not to outpace him.</p><p>“-the very fabric of reality-“</p><p>Vakarion looked to Curinure, he looked to be absorbing everything.</p><p>“-left me permanently blinded-“</p><p>This information didn’t really feel pertinent to Vakarion.</p><p>“-prophecies are fluid-“</p><p>Didn’t the Prophet say that they didn’t need any more distractions?</p><p>“-heroic mortals have-“</p><p>Vakarion looked off to the clouds. He thought to himself that they looked like breasts.</p><p>“-Ves-“</p><p>He wondered what would happen if he jumped off the edge into them.</p><p>“-tig-“</p><p>Could he touch them, or were they made of mind?</p><p>“-VE-“</p><p>Would they, perhaps, feel like old man chest?</p><p>“VESTIGE!” The Prophet hit him with his staff.</p><p>“Ow! What?!” Vakarion snapped back to ‘reality’.</p><p>“Pay attention!” The Prophet began walking again, “As I was just saying… the Scrolls revealed to me that your fate is intertwined with that of the Five Companions.”</p><p>“Nnneat. Who are they?” Vakarion asked in a desperate bid to sound interested.</p><p>“I’m glad you asked.” The Prophet led them to a table situated atop a large stone. The tall woman who dragged Vakarion through Coldharbour appeared on one end, “Lyris Titanborn, daughter of giants, and personal guard to the Emperor.”</p><p>“Oh yeah. I think she carried me once.” Vakarion tried to walk over but Curinure grabbed him by the collar.</p><p>A short, weasely-looking man with a widow’s peak that could kill a man appeared across the table from Lyris. “Abnur Tharn, a powerful sorcerer and Grand Chancellor of the Imperial Council.” The Prophet continued expositing.</p><p>A bearded man with no shirt walked in from nowhere and sat next to Lyris. “Sai Sahan, master swordsman and leader of the Imperial Dragonguard.”</p><p>Next a man in ceremonial armor and a golden laurel crown stepped up to the table. “Varen Aquilarios. The emperor who attempted to light the Dragonfires, and failed.”</p><p>“Can I interrupt you?” Vakarion raised a hand, “I don’t know what most of those things are.”</p><p>“…” The Prophet took a deep breath, “The Imperial Council serves the empire beneath only the emperor, they are headed by a Grand Chancellor. They govern the Empire, seated in Cyrodiil in the capital city, called the Imperial City. The Dragonguard are a secret military group originating from the distant land of Akavir who protect the Dragonborn emperor, who is the only person who can ignite the Dragonfires, which, along with the Amulet of Kings, are used in a ritual that strengthens the veil between Nirn and Oblivion. Varen was no Dragonborn, thus, he could not light the Dragonfires. Any comments or questions, Vestige?”</p><p>“Just the one. Whoever named all of that was super uninspired.” Vakarion crossed his arms.</p><p>“Quite. Now…” The Prophet gestured back to the scene as an Altmer appeared, towering over the others, Lyris excluded, and wearing all-black with a crown of black spikes, “The final of the five, Mannimarco. A powerful necromancer. He is the one who, presumably, executed you and took your soul. Damning you to rot in Coldharbour.”</p><p>“Wait, what the fuck? I died?!” Vakarion’s ears stood up, “I don’t have a soul?!”</p><p>“Yes? Did you not know this?” The Prophet tilted his head.</p><p>“NO! Nobody told me!” Vakarion’s voice went up an octave, “That should have been the first thing you told me!”</p><p>“Why do you think I called upon Akatosh to bestow his blessing upon you?”</p><p>“I DIDN’T KNOW WHO AKATOSH <em>WAS</em>! What is WRONG with you?!”</p><p>“I assumed that the chosen hero would be capable of handling-“</p><p>“<em>Noooo</em>… I’m just being overly dramatic! ANYONE would be a-okay with learning that they not only DIED but had their SOUL TAKEN! Silly, stupid me!”</p><p>“Vestige, I need you to calm down-“</p><p>“I AM COMPLETELY CALM!” Vakarion ran a hand through his hair as he paced, “Not only am I <em>a literal dead man walking </em>I’m a metaphorical one too because some… <strong>stupid idiot</strong> of a god took a look at me and decided…” Vakarion then did a horribly inaccurate and insulting impersonation of what he thought Akatosh to sound like, “<em>Oh, yes, this shriveled up husk is the perfect candidate to send off to save the world from a great evil despite having exactly only ONE super-specific skill he can rely on.’ </em>Well THANKS, Akky! My good old pal! You’ve doomed the gods-damned world to taking it up the ass from Molag Bal because you couldn’t have picked an actual <em>hero</em>!”</p><p>“Quite literally…” Curinure mumbled.</p><p>“Please, please do not expand upon that.” Vakarion pointed at him.</p><p>“Listen to me, Vestige-“ The Prophet tried to put a hand on Vakarion’s shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t touch me! And stop calling me that! I have a name!” Vakarion shook him off, “I’m Vakarion! Call me it or I’m throwing you off that ledge into the cloud tits!”</p><p>“Alright…” The Prophet stepped back, “Please listen to me, <em>Vakarion.</em> Nobody chooses to become a hero. It often falls upon the least likely of candidates. But you have a duty to fulfill, because no one else can.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“That’s just how it is.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>bullshit</em>! Pick someone else! I brought a perfectly good wizard. Use him!” Vakarion pointed to Curinure again.</p><p>“We cannot go against the tides of fate, Ves- Vakarion.“ The Prophet quickly corrected himself, “To do so is folly. Besides…” his expression darkened, “You <em>do </em>want your soul back, no?”</p><p>“…” Vakarion was quiet, then spoke in a tone more similar to the actual Akatosh than his earlier impression “<em>You’re a real piece of shit, and I hate you. There is nothing that you could do or say to make me hate you more, as I’ve reached the pinnacle of hatred one being can hold for another. If my hate for you alone could shatter mountains, we would live in a world of gravel</em>.”</p><p>Curinure stood there silently, wishing he was literally anywhere else.</p><p>“Anyway…” Vakarion wiped his nose and walked towards the table. He pointed at Mannimarco, “This is the asshole who brought upon the apocalypse, then? Who would trust a man named ‘Mannimarco’? Let alone one who dresses evil… Hey, who even came up with the name ‘Five Companions’? Were they just going off their country’s proud tradition of naming everything literally or were they just feeling lazy that day?”</p><p>The Prophet took a deep breath and slammed his staff into the ground. The scene before them changed. The Five Companions stood around a brazier. Vakarion rejoined the other two real people.</p><p>“Mannimarco, are you certain this will work?” the memory-ghost-image of Varen Aquilarios asked the memory-ghost-image of the lich.</p><p>“It will work, my liege.” Mannimarco said in a plainly, clearly, and obviously evil way, “The Amulet of Kings will rekindle the Dragonfires, and ensure your… rightful place as Emperor. You have my word.”</p><p>Lyris sneered at him, “It had better.”</p><p>“My Lord, if you would muzzle your pet-“ Tharn began, but was cut off by Sai.</p><p>“That’s enough. We’ve wasted enough time bickering on the way up here.” Sai looked to Varen, “We’re ready, sir.”</p><p>“Begin the ritual, Abnur. I have a destiny to fulfill.” Varen stepped up to the brazier, holding out a large, ornate, and embarrassingly gaudy amulet over the fire.</p><p>Tharn sighed and held up a hand, a beam of red light shot out from it and into the flame which erupted in response.</p><p>Varen flinched, but stood resolute, holding the amulet tight, “By the lighting of the Dragonfires, I claim my rightful lineage!” he called out over the roar of the fire, “By the fires of creation, let me be reborn! By the will of Akatosh, I proclaim myself Dragonborn!”</p><p>The fire intensified a second… and then extinguished themselves. All present stared down at the embers. For a moment, all was quiet, with Varen limply holding the amulet in place. Then, a pillar of light shot upwards, knocking everyone back. Everyone except Mannimarco, who had raised a ward preemptively.</p><p>The amulet floated within the beam, and a voice rang out.</p><p>
  <em>“Varen Aquilarios! You are no heir of Alessia! You will pay for your arrogance! The veil between Oblivion and Tamriel will sunder! All of the pain that follows your folly, rests squarely on <strong>your</strong> shoulders!”</em>
</p><p>The beam faded and the amulet fell impotently into the burning coals. Mannimarco grinned madly as he lowered the ward. He raised his staff, purple electricity streaking upwards, tearing a rift in the sky.</p><p>“What have you <em>done?!</em>” Lyris scrambled to her feet and reached for her axe.</p><p>“Nothing your would-be emperor wouldn’t have tried without me. I’m merely an opportunist, girl.” Mannimarco cackled as the rift above exploded into light.</p><p>As the scene faded, Varen’s voice could be heard crying out desperately for Akatosh’s forgiveness.</p><p>The trio were quiet a long while.</p><p>Vakarion was the first to speak, “Alright… so… my existing suspicion that Akatosh is volatile and irascible is proven true. So Mannimarco was betting that this ritual would piss him off so he could do… what, exactly?”</p><p>“His plan was twofold. Weaken the forces separating Oblivion and Tamriel, which he achieved. And to steal the Amulet of Kings. Luckily, he opened the first rift before grabbing it, so Sai Sahan was able to take it and escape. He was, unfortunately, captured by the Worm Cult, Mannimarco’s lackeys, but not before he sealed it away.”</p><p>“What happened to the others?”</p><p>“Abnur Tharn joined forced with Mannimarco to retain his power and ensure that his daughter, Clivia, would remain Empress. She and Varen had married.” The Prophet looked as though he had an opinion to share on that topic, but held it back, “Lyris was pulled into Coldharbour and captured. Varen disappeared without a trace. Mannimarco’s grander scheme remains obscured to me, though he now searches for the Amulet of Kings.”</p><p>“So… we capture Mannimarco and beat him until he closes the rifts. Problem solved.”</p><p>“Were it so simple. For now, we need to rescue Lyris and Sai Sahan.”</p><p>“…why?”</p><p>“We are indebted to Lyris, firstly. Secondly, Sai Sahan is the only one who knows where the Amulet of Kings is. We must secure it.”</p><p>Curinure took a step forward, “If I may interject… I work under someone who bears a personal grudge towards Mannimarco and knows him better than, well, clearly the Empire.”</p><p>“You speak of Vanus Galerion, correct?” The Prophet faced a little to the right of Curinure.</p><p>“Yes. And if I don’t pass this information along to him, I’m sure he’ll make it your problem. He’s been working tirelessly to fight the Planemeld, and would be more than happy to assist.”</p><p>“You may tell him, and only him. Word of our endeavors cannot be allowed to spread to the ears of the Worm Cult.”</p><p>“Understood.” Curinure bowed his head.</p><p>“Alright, so when are we getting started? I want my fucking soul back.” Vakarion butted in.</p><p>“After a short rest, we can begin the search for Lyris.” The Prophet raised his staff and the world around them spun.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone awoke in the cave. Syndiel scampered back to his rock. Curinure stood and helped the Prophet up.</p><p>“I’m going to get some air.” Vakarion grunted as he walked back out the way he came.</p><p>“If I might ask you some questions?” Curinure nodded to the Prophet.</p><p>“Of course.” The Prophet turned away from the exit. Syndiel cast a spell to muffle himself and bolted out after Vakarion.</p><p> </p><p>Once outside, Syndiel grabbed Vakarion by the face, “HE’S WORKING FOR MOLAG BAL.”</p><p>“…what?” Vakarion stood, face smooshed.</p><p>“His eyes! They’re- He’s- Magic sense. Coldharbour watches through his eyes.” Syndiel let him go, “He stunk of it!”</p><p>“Magic has a smell?”</p><p>“Yes! He said he pulled you into his mind, right? What did it look like?”</p><p>“Uh… Coldharb-oh shit.” Vakarion frowned, “But he just showed us what caused the Planemeld. And he seems genuine, if insufferable.”</p><p>“What is his plan?”</p><p>“The gist of it is he wants to retrieve the Amulet of Kings so Mannimarco cannot find it, we’re going to go rescue a woman named Lyris which may or may not be a waste of time, I don’t know what he wants to do after that.”</p><p>“Okay, Mannimarco. That’s the… Let me think…” Syndiel closed his eyes tight for a second, “Exile from Artaeum, kicked out of Psijics, Vanus Galerion yelled his name at the sky when we destroyed a dark anchor.”</p><p>“Woah, you destroyed a Dark Anchor?”</p><p>“Yes, and I got zero credit for it. What’s Mannimarco’s plan?”</p><p>“The Prophet said he didn’t know but it has something to do with the Amulet. Uh… I’m pretty sure Molag Bal kind of just let us leave Coldharbour too.”</p><p>“Okay… so, regardless of if the old fart in there knows it Molag Bal must not trust Mannimarco at the least, wants him stopped at worst.”</p><p>“You came to that conclusion pretty quickly…” Vakarion mused.</p><p>“I grew up in Alinor. Being able to pick up on plots is something you need to learn before you walk. Otherwise you end up with poison in your drink and nobody at your funeral because your name gets slandered posthumously.”</p><p>“That sounds terrible.”</p><p>“Because it is. And because you’re sane. Now we need a plan.”</p><p>“We… kill the Prophet.”</p><p>“That can be plan B.”</p><p>“Okay, then… we go along with it until Mannimarco’s out of the way-“ Vakarion began.</p><p>“And then afterward we use your weird ability to stumble into important people to gather allies-“ Syndiel continued.</p><p>“And take the fight to Molag Bal himself! Hash the details out along the way!”Vakarion slammed his fist into his palm.</p><p>“Okay! Alright. That works! We’ll probably fail but…” Syndiel held his chin between his finger and thumb, If it’s even a one-percent chance it’s worth taking.”</p><p>“Oh, by the way. I don’t have a soul.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The Prophet told me I don’t-“</p><p>“No I heard. How are you… not dead?”</p><p>“He said I died before the soul thing.”</p><p>“…you’re not Soul-Shriven. Shouldn’t your skin be… gray and saggy?” Syndiel poked him, “You don’t have an illusion up.”</p><p>“No. I was, but then The Prophet called upon Akatosh, my insides burned, and now my skin’s goldish-tan.”</p><p>“You have an absolute knack for simplifying things to the point they sound outright stupid, don’t you?”</p><p>“You understood what I said, though.”</p><p>“Okay, so. Auri-el’s on our side. That’s good.”</p><p>“It really… isn’t?” The ungrateful and annoying Vakarion said, “He’s kiiind of the reason we’re in this mess to begin with.”</p><p>“…you’re just going to up and throw heresy at me now?” Syndiel narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“I’m serious! The reason all of this is happening is because the old emperor tried to relight the Dragonfires by proclaiming himself the true heir to the throne and <em>Akatosh himself</em> showed up to punish him and extinguished the Fires. Part of it was on the emperor, and a lot of it was on Mannimarco… but he was banking on Akatosh freaking out about it.”</p><p>“You’re… not bullshitting me? A <strong>god</strong> is so petty?”</p><p>“Yes. Without a doubt.” The <em>ugly </em>and <em>idiotic </em>Vakarion nodded.</p><p>“I’m going to wait to process that one. But still, he’s on our side and clearly wants to stop the Planemeld if he brought you here, Mr. Chosen One.” Syndiel punched his arm lightly. He should have punched harder.</p><p>“Counterpoint… <em>he brought me here</em>. Instead of virtually anyone else.”</p><p>“Maybe you’re better suited than you think you are?”</p><p>Vakarion’s cheeks grew red. He huffed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked away, “Yeah… no. Not likely.”</p><p>Syndiel rolled his eyes, “We’ll find out. Now, the Prophet never ‘looked’ at me, so Bal probably doesn’t know I exist. We can <em>probably </em>use that?”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“…” Syndiel reached up and pinched his earlobe, pulling him down to his level, “Don’t pull that ‘silent treatment’ shit with me, Vakarion. We have a world to save.”</p><p>“Ow, ow! Okay, fine! Let go!”</p><p>Syndiel released him, “Good.”</p><p>Vakarion rubbed his ear, “Your fingers are like little vice grips…”</p><p>“I used to write a lot. Now, get back in there. I’ll be hiding. If he opens a portal, distract him so I can dive into it without him seeing.”</p><p>“Won’t Molag Bal notice you once we’re inside?”</p><p>“Not if I’m indistinguishable from Coldharbour. I’ve got an idea based on my little experience with the Dark Anchor.”</p><p>Vakarion frowned, “Is it safe?”</p><p>“What does that matter?”</p><p>“It… doesn’t.” Vakarion started walking back to the cave.</p><p>Syndiel followed directly behind him, “If you’re not willing to run an experiment on yourself, you shouldn’t be conducting it in the first place. Now remember, if he opens a portal, distract him!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I redid quests, and had memories of that one quest where you have to follow the Prophet around at a snail's pace forcibly un-repressed<br/>Also I'm pretty sure this has been the longest chapter so far so... woo?</p><p>Sidenote: I had to cut a joke back in Khenarthi's roost just because it'd be out of place. There's this npc in Cat's Eye Quay after you finish the main quest there called Zargal and there's anywhere from 3-6 of him in that instance at any given time and the only reason I know this is because I learned a speedrun route for 100% completing Khenarthi's roost in under 40 minutes for leveling purposes and ended up in that area a lot<br/>Related to the above, there's something I discovered that I call a 'C-skip' where during certain animations where you interact with something, in this case when using lodestones on the funky electricity maormer gates, you hit c (or any other button that pulls up a menu that spins your character to face you) during the animation and it immediately stops it and forces the thing you were doing to happen instantly instead of at the end of the animation. So far I've only found it to work with the electricity gate things on Khenarthi's roost and 1 door in 1 delve. On some things it just cancels the animation without triggering the next event. Don't tell ZoS</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. I read your book.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: Light gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Vakarion walked back into the Prophet’s cave. Curinure and said prophet, though he had yet to do much regarding prophecy, were sitting across from each other in awkward, heavy silence. Syndiel lingered in the cave, listening carefully. Vakarion stepped up to the Prophet.</p><p>“Alright, so, we’re going back into Coldharbour after the giant lady, right?” Vakarion slapped him on the back.</p><p>“Her name…” The Prophet held back the urge to hit the elf with his staff, “Is Lyris. And yes. I am going to send you back into Coldharbour to The Castle of Worms, Mannimarco’s base of operations.”</p><p>“I could almost hear that capitalized ‘The’. Did he name it that himself or..?”</p><p>“Yes. Now, you’ll need to sneak in, and use subterfuge to find out where Lyris is, and equally as important, any information on the location of Sai Sahan and the Amulet of Kings.”</p><p>“Great! Couple of problems with that.”</p><p>The Prophet took a deep breath, “Alright. What might they be?”</p><p>“So, I don’t have any armor and I left my swords back at the Mage’s Guild. Also, isn’t it kind of incredibly risky to just… march up into Mannimarco’s house and hope for the best?”</p><p>“You don’t have any- Of course you don’t. As for your second point, you’re more than capable of figuring it out.”</p><p>“Can I go get some-“ Vakarion began, but was cut off by the Prophet slamming his staff into the ground and a mass of moths swarming into the shape of a portal, he looked over his shoulder then walked in a big arc around the Prophet, making enough noise so that the Prophet knew where he was, “Ah. Anyway, anything I should know about Coldharbour before we <strong>go into the portal</strong>?”</p><p>“For one thing, time may pass either slower or faster within. The planes of Oblivion have a rather interesting relationship with time. You may have all the time in the world, or you may have none at all. It is unwise to take that gamble, so I advise you tread quickly.” The Prophet faced him.</p><p>Syndiel peeked out from the cave, saw the Prophet facing away, and did a somersault into the portal. Curinure frowned and trudged into it as well.</p><p>“Right, right…” Vakarion watched the others, “I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>“Well, there <em>are </em>the Halls of Torment…” The Prophet thought, “In all honesty that should be where you start. Mannimarco would most likely keep prisoners-“</p><p>“Got it! Thanks! See you soon!” Vakarion clapped him on the shoulder and ran into the portal.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion stumbled into Coldharbour with a mild case of portal-sickness. He nearly walked face-first into a stone wall, the sand was gray and the air smelled of rotten eggs and rotten bodies. He dry-heaved, and looked up to see Curinure chastising Syndiel, who was looking… different. Primarily his skin, which was covered in large, dark blotches etched with glowing blue cracks. His eyes were pitch black and hollow looking.</p><p>“-but it <em>worked</em>!” Syndiel protested.</p><p>“You don’t know that! You may have just given our position away to Bal!” Curinure glared down at Syndiel, “You may have just damned yourself to this place! What made you think that this was in any way a good idea?!”</p><p>“Uh, what did he...” Vakarion looked to Syndiel, “…do?”</p><p>“Simple, really. I blew what magicka I had inside me and replaced it with ambient magicka from here…”</p><p>“Did you have to phrase it like that?” Curinure rolled his eyes.</p><p>“<em>And</em> now I should fly under Bal’s radar. If he noticed he probably would’ve tried to possess me or something by now.” Syndiel waved a hand.</p><p>“Do I have to explain everything wrong with this? Least of them all that this was entirely unnecessary!”</p><p>“It’s perfectly strategic. If Molag Bal thinks there’s only the two of you he’ll respond in kind. Plus I wanted to see what would happen.”</p><p>“You wanted to-“ Curinure pinched the bridge of his nose, “I am going to have a long talk with your father if I survive this.”</p><p>“Ugh.” Syndiel rolled his eyes and looked to Vakarion, “You get it, right?”</p><p>“Does that… hurt?” Vakarion kept a few feet away.</p><p>Syndiel frowned, quiet a moment, “Whatever. Think that’s the castle we’re looking for?” he pointed upwards. They were, indeed, next to the foundation of a very large castle decorated in an ostentatious amount of large black spikes. Some were adorned with bodies.</p><p>“Most likely. I don’t enjoy being sent forward without a plan, but… well I’ve worked with Vanus Galerion. Look for a sewer entrance.” Curinure walked alongside the wall, the two younger mer tailing him.</p><p>“Why would there be a sewer? Do liches and Daedra even need to-“ Syndiel scowled as they rounded a corner and saw a massive pipe from which azure plasm, bodies, and other unmentionables flowed out.</p><p>“To be fair, that isn’t technically a <em>sewer</em>.” Vakarion shrugged, “Since there’s no… sewage… right then! Into the waste-pipe!” he hopped over a corpse and into the pipe.</p><p>Syndiel grunted and followed. Curinure lingered outside a moment, watching for any who might follow, and then continued inside.</p><p>As they travelled through the bowels of the castle, two things became very obvious. One, that dead Daedra smelled worse than dead person, and that both scents intermingling were potent enough that it could have been weaponized. Two, that they were, in fact, in a sewer as there was, in fact, sewage.</p><p>A faint trickle of light filtered in from a small grate above. Vakarion hoisted Syndiel up so he could see through, and regretted that course of action immediately when Syndiel’s goo-soaked shoes touched his shoulders.</p><p>“Okay… I see…” Syndiel  peeked through the grate, “It’s a lab. Cages on one side, Soul Shriven in them. What do Lyris or Sai look like?”</p><p>“Gh… Tall, blonde, scar over the left eye…” Vakarion thought, “Other one’s shirtless, glorious beard. You’ll know it if you see it. ”</p><p>“No beards I’d call glorious. Doesn’t look like- oh shh!” Syndiel crouched down a bit, forcing Vakarion to quickly adjust lest they both fall into the foulness below.</p><p>A man in black robes entered the lab alongside an Altmer with white hair and a circlet of black spikes.</p><p>“Sir I-“ the man spoke, “I really see no reason to shut down this entire wing.”</p><p>“The space can be used for projects that aren’t so asinine.” The Altmer walked to the cages, “Really, had I known when I started all of this that the <em>joys</em> of middle management would follow me here, I may have just reconsidered the whole blasted thing.”</p><p>“W-would you really have, my lord?”</p><p>“No, of course not. Don’t be stupid. Now salvage what’s useful and clear this room out.”</p><p>“Right away, sir!” the man scrambled to pick up beakers and soul gems, “O-oh, one other thing. Abnur Tharn requested your presence.”</p><p>“Lovely… Though I do enjoy the prospect of speaking with someone who possesses a modicum of competence, however shrouded in… Tharn as it is.” The Altmer walked back toward the door.</p><p>Syndiel hopped down, “There’s a guy in a spiky crown. He’s going to talk to Abnur <em>fucking </em>Tharn of the Imperial Council, who’s here apparently.”</p><p>“Oh sh- That’s Mannimarco. We should follow him!” Vakarion loud-whispered, “Someone, do something that’ll help with that!”</p><p>“Aye. Lift me back up.” Syndiel nodded.</p><p>Vakarion picked Syndiel back up. He waited for the man inside to turn away, and then froze the grate in ice. He leaned back and gestured to Curinure who blasted it with flames. The grate flew across the room, nailing the man in the head and rendering him unconscious.</p><p>“Nice! Two birds with one stone!” Syndiel shimmied through the grate and helped the other two up.</p><p>“Okay so now we just need to keep low and to the shadows and-“ Vakarion looked down, he was invisible.</p><p>“We’re mages, Vakarion. You don’t need any of that ‘sneaking’ nonsense.” Syndiel grabbed a hold of Vakarion and Curinure’s wrist, “Okay, someone lead the way.”</p><p>“Got it. Keep your footfalls light and try not to bump into any shelves, <em>Syndiel.</em>” Curinure started forward, out and into the hall. Mannimarco was halfway down the hall. The trio tailed him as he meandered. A red-headed cultist ran up to him.</p><p>“Sir! We’ve got the beast-woman locked up as you’ve requested!” she knelt at his feet, “What would you have us do with her?”</p><p>Mannimarco sighed, “Lock her up and throw away the key. I don’t care, so long as she’s no longer causing problems.”</p><p>“Permission to put her in the Halls of Torment?” she looked up hopefully.</p><p>“What is it with you people and that place?” Mannimarco raised a brow, “Whatever. Do as you want with her.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir!” The woman jumped up with a little hand clap in celebration, “You are truly the most-“</p><p>He had already begun to walk away, “Yes, yes. Enjoy your… show, or whatever it is you lot do down there.”</p><p>Mannimarco and his unseen company proceeded, the corridors twisted and turned, bleeding into each other. Only one who had walked them many, many times would not have gotten lost. There were stone reliefs of Molag Bal’s face sprinkled intermittently throughout, one had a horn missing. They passed it four times.</p><p>Mannimarco looked around, ensuring nobody was near, before swearing at the ceiling and pulling floor plans out from under his chest plate, “I really shouldn’t have outsourced the construction of this place to <em>Daedra </em>of all things. Incompetent, the absolute lot of them.”</p><p>“<em>He’s right</em>…” Vakarion whispered, “<em>The brickwork here is kind of a mess. The ceiling supports are kind of-.</em>”</p><p>Someone elbowed him, so he shut up.</p><p>Two men dragging the corpse of a blonde woman with a turned-up nose in golden regalia approached. Mannimarco quickly tucked the plans away.</p><p>“Gentlemen.” He bowed his head to them as they passed.</p><p>“Just taking out the trash, sir.” One said.</p><p>“Glad to know <em>someone </em>can carry out a job properly. Hurry with that stinking thing.”</p><p>The men quickened their pace. Mannimarco continued on his way, finally finding the gods-damned stairs after no less than two more wrong turns. He and the trio ascended into a tower, the topmost room in which was guarded by two surly-looking Dremora. It was a lab-library hybrid, much to Vakarion’s chagrin. The idea of storing books with chemicals irked him greatly.</p><p>Mannimarco dispelled the ward with a wave of his hand and walked in. The trio shuffled in after him.</p><p>“Tharn. Present yourself.” Mannimarco looked around, “And don’t bother with your usual attempts at banter, I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>An Imperial man, maybe half his height but with a widow’s peak that more than made up for it, stepped out from behind a row of bookcases.</p><p>“Ah, there you are. I was afraid you had gotten lost.” He shut a book with a half-smirk.</p><p>“Was I unclear before, or need I repeat myself?” Mannimarco glowered down at him.</p><p>“Oh no, no need. We needn’t be here all day. I’ve simply a few questions that I should like to ask.”</p><p>“Ask, then.”</p><p>“Well, think me petty all you want, but if you do intend to keep me here under house arrest, the least you could do is put in a bed. Or is that not in the budget?”</p><p>“…you could not have asked anyone else? I had to hike clear up here for <em>this</em>?”</p><p>“Need I remind you… <em>you’re </em>the one so distrusting of your supposed ‘right-hand’ that you keep him locked up like the proverbial damsel in a tower.”</p><p>“First of all… I never bestowed that title upon you and do not know where everyone got that idea. Secondly, the only reason you are <em>alive </em>is because you are useful, and you are in no position to push you luck.” Mannimarco took a couple of steps forward with a menacing gate.</p><p>The Imperial was wholly unimpressed, “If you are quite done blustering, will you allow me the basic dignity of a bed to sleep in. Or shall I continue to suffer away on the floor?”</p><p>“…fine. I’ll have someone take care of it. Is that all?”</p><p>“What? Is the King of Worms so busy that he can’t endure a chat with an old friend?”</p><p>“Cease your attempts at familiarity. It’s unbecoming.” Mannimarco turned to leave, “From now on, only summon me if you have something <em>worth my time.</em>”</p><p>“Not a high bar…” The man muttered as the door slammed shut. As he went back to the shelf, he heard a soft thud, and then the sound of someone lightly hitting another person.</p><p>“…hello?” he looked around, “If you’re the initiates from this morning, I was not bluffing when I said I would boil away your skin.”</p><p>“<em>Shh, I’ve got this.</em>” Vakarion whispered to Syndiel, and cleared his throat. He spoke with a fake ghostly tone, “I’m your consciennnccceee… you should stop working with the clearly evil maaannn…”</p><p>The Imperial stood, completely unable to believe the tomfoolery before him, “Unveil yourselves before I do it myself.”</p><p>Syndiel snapped his fingers and Vakarion reappeared.</p><p>“Heh… Uh, Abnur Tharn, is it?” he forced a smile.</p><p>“Who in blazes…” Tharn looked him up and down, “Explain yourself. And whoever’s with you, don’t pretend like I didn’t notice there was more than one!”</p><p>Syndiel reappeared next to Vakarion.</p><p>Tharn blinked, Syndiel’s current appearance doing even less to make this make sense, “What did- Why-“</p><p>“Right, so, you don’t <em>really</em> like working for old Mannimarco back there, right?” Vakarion said, “Lucky you, we want to kill him! Oh, and my friend here is… holding Coldharbour magic so Molag Bal can’t smell him. I think?”</p><p>Abnur Tharn stared at them, then doubled over laughing.</p><p>“…is that a good laugh or..?” Vakarion glanced to Syndiel.</p><p>“This is priceless! You idiots were able to- Oh Mannimarco will be <em>furious </em>to find out this happened! It almost makes me want to call him back up here now!” Tharn leaned against a table.</p><p>“Ha… yeah, you’re not going to do that though, right?” Vakarion asked hopefully, “Oh, uh, by the way. We’re working with the-“</p><p>“With the ‘Prophet’, I’m well aware. Did he send you after me?” Tharn shook his head, “I doubt it, more likely he wants his pet Nord and Sai Sahan... I’m no idiot.”</p><p>“Great! Then you’ll help us!”</p><p>“I just said I was no idiot.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Vakarion strolled over to him, “And if we had enough dumb luck to get all the way up here, don’t you think that maybe there’s some… fate kind of thing going on? See, the big time god himself put me on this path, meaning that if you stay with Mr. Doesn’t-know-his-own-castle, you’re on the wrong side of the story. And really… if you’re so smart, you must already have plans to turn on him anyway. Because no smart person would think that Coldharbour eating Nirn would end any way other than badly.”</p><p>“I am a Chancellor of the Imperial Council, boy. I’ve been in politics long enough to know when someone is talking out of their rear.” Tharn paused, “That said, you’re right about most everything, though how am I to believe that you’re blessed by Akatosh himself?”</p><p>“You can stab me if you want. I can’t die.” Vakarion paused, “Probably. But I’m pretty sure that’s an Akatosh-y thing because the blood and skin and whatnot just kind of… <em>schlorps </em>backwards.”</p><p>“It what.” Tharn stared at him.</p><p>“You <em>what?</em>” Curinure broke his silence and dispelled the invisibility.</p><p>“Oh gods the Altmer are multiplying…” Tharn mumbled.</p><p>“Also The Prophet said some… bullshit about me not having a soul and Mannimarco sacrificing me and-“ Vakarion tried to continue.</p><p>“Wait a moment. Sacrificed? Did you escape the Pit, then?” Abnur looked up at him.</p><p>“The… Pit?”</p><p>“Yes the Pit. It’s where the Shriven Mannimarco sacrifices end up. It’s full of Azure Plasm and surrounded by Orgrim, surely you remember this?”</p><p>“I woke up in a cage. That’s kind of as far back as I remember. Then Lyris busted me out not two minutes later.”</p><p>“You… hm. Interesting.” Tharn placed a finger on his chin, “And what of those with you?”</p><p>“Uh… This is-“</p><p>“Curinure. I head the Mage’s Guild chapter in Vulkhel Guard and I feel as though we glossed over the fact that you <em>can’t die?</em>” Curinure whirled on Vakarion.</p><p>“I think! I don’t know the limits of it!” Vakarion held his hand up.</p><p>“I’m Syndiel!” Syndiel pushed his way between Curinure and Vakarion, “Hi. I’m- I read your book.”</p><p>“Clearly not the passage on caution when experimenting with raw magicka… why exactly did you do… this to yourself?” Abnur gestured at him.</p><p>“To know what it felt like, mostly.” Syndiel paused as all eyes laid on him, “I phrased that completely wrong, didn’t I?”</p><p>“I see no way you could have phrased that without making yourself out to be a masochist. Anyway. If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way.” Tharn moved to a table covered in notebooks and ink stains, “Deep below the Castle, adjacent to the sewers, are the ‘Halls of Torment’.”</p><p>“Yeah, we heard that Lyris is down there.” Vakarion interjected.</p><p>“Oh, right, her. More importantly Sai Sahan is most likely trapped there, and he knows where the Amulet of Kings is. I’m sure the Prophet told you about it.”</p><p>“Not what it does or why we need it beyond ‘Mannimarco can’t have it’. Or if he did say I wasn’t listening.” Vakarion walked to the table and picked up a piece of paper.</p><p>Tharn lightly slapped the paper from his hands, “Yes. I expect he wouldn’t. And he claims me to be the weasel… No matter. There will be time enough to explain later. For now, we need to get past that ward and those two brutes you saw outside.”</p><p>“Great!” Vakarion clapped, “Let’s get this over with!”</p><p>“An attitude I greatly appreciate.” Tharn nodded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>3 things</p><p>1- I drank a seagrams wine cooler while writing this, it's watermelon and guava flavored and bubbly and pink and I love it. It goes down cold but leaves me esophagus warm<br/>2- I've nearly finished replaying all of the quests and got really really mad, but that anger will fuel me just as much as this bottle of seagrams<br/>3- I've listened to twisted from the musical of the same name several times in a row because GOT DAMN does it slap</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. It's kind of flirting.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Minor gore, sewage</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First a loud crash. A bookshelf was flung over. Glass shattered upon impact with the ground.</p><p>“Would you two IDIOTS do your jobs and get in here?!” Tharn shouted to the two Dremora stationed outside of his lab/cell/library.</p><p>One dispelled the door and the other flung the door open. They saw Vakarion standing over Abnur holding calipers. They drew their blades, only to get electrocuted, they fell to the ground, convulsing.</p><p>Tharn stood up, “It’s an absolute crime that that worked.”</p><p>“Agreed.” Curinure moved to finish them off with a bound dagger, “It’s a crime that conjuration works here at all.”</p><p>“Eh. It’s okay. I’m pretty sure Molag Bal’s just kind of letting all of this happen.” Vakarion tossed the calipers away.</p><p>“Oh he most certainly is. Wait until I get a moment to tell you of Mannimarco’s grand scheme.”Abnur walked to the door and peered out, “Alright. We need to get to the sewers before anyone misses me… meaning we have quite a bit of time to work with.”</p><p>“What?” Curinure looked up from the now-dead Daedra.</p><p>“Okay. Everyone gather around.” Syndiel prepared the invisibility spell, “I’m pretty sure I can keep up cloaked for that long.”</p><p>“One moment.” Vakarion picked up one of the swords, “Ready.”</p><p>The group were shrouded, vanishing without a trace. The three Altmer locked arms in a chain and Vakarion attempted to grab Tharn’s shoulder but was shrugged off.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Abnur hissed.</p><p>“How else are we supposed to keep track of each other?” Vakarion paused, “You can’t see, but I’m glaring at you.”</p><p>“So we’re to adhere to the buddy system like children?”</p><p>“Why is this- Yes!” Vakarion grabbed his pauldron, “Nobody can see us!”</p><p>“Would you two knock it off and move?” Curinure snapped from somewhere behind them, “Every moment we wait around is every moment we’re increasing the size of the <em>other shoe</em> hanging over our heads.”</p><p>“Fine. This way. But if any of you trip I’m turning you inside out.” Tharn led them down the stairs.</p><p>They moved through the twisting corridors of the Castle of Worms, yet again. Unlike when tailing Mannimarco, however, they only got turned around once. Twice. The slightly damaged stone face of Molag Bal on a wall seemingly taunted them.</p><p>There was a bit of a stir building. The grate from which the triad of Altmer had entered was discovered alongside the concussed Worm Cultist whose skull it had struck. Patrols of cultists and the odd Daedra skulked around, making it that much more difficult for the chain of invisible people to maneuver past them.</p><p>At one point, a particularly ornery-looking Dremora with a blindfold approached them. It sniffed the air a moment, leaned in close to Syndiel, took another few whiffs, grunted and left with a shrug. Syndiel resolved to tell everyone that he told them so.</p><p>They followed a long hallway lined with doors; each was a lab, according to Tharn, so each would have a drain of some sort to the sewers. It was only a matter of finding an open door. They made it to the end of the hall, and found none. Fortunately, a rather short Altmeri mage stepped out from a lab.</p><p>He pulled down his hood revealing pitch-black hair and somewhat rounded ears. Half human, by his looks. He wiped his brow, half-glancing towards the person-chain. He then smirked and walked away.</p><p>Not being in a position, the group entered the lab, broke the grate within, and dropped into the sewers. The horrible, odious sewers. Curinure had the foresight, this time, to replace the grate behind them. Syndiel dropped the invisibility as soon as they hit the slime below.</p><p>“What are you doing?!” Tharn shoved Vakarion’s hand away, yet again, “We aren’t in a position to-“</p><p>“It was hard enough with three people going the opposite way!” Syndiel cut him off, “I’m just one person!”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Curinure stepped in front of Syndiel, facing Tharn, “Where are the Halls of Torment?”</p><p>“This way… try not to slosh too much sludge about.” Abnur stomped off down a tunnel. Curinure and Vakarion followed suit.</p><p>“What about that man who- Okay. I guess we’re all just moving on?” Syndiel looked back up towards the grate with a frown, “Fog of war, I guess!” he trotted after the others.</p><p>“Hey, you’re catching on to how I’ve been coping!” Vakarion called back to him, “Head down and eyes forward!”</p><p>“That isn’t a good thing.” Syndiel scowled.</p><p>“Hey, if I didn’t do that I’d be hitting my head on doorframes.”</p><p>“Then I’ll just have to keep my head up for the both of us.” Syndiel elbowed Vakarion.</p><p>Vakarion grinned, “Why do you think I hired someone so short?”</p><p>“Bold words coming from a very large stick figure. I bet a strong breeze could knock you over.”</p><p>“Oh, and you’re secretly buff under-“ Vakarion paused as Syndiel rolled up his sleeve, revealing a somewhat skinny but far more toned musculature than he anticipated.</p><p>“I’d show you my abs but what was it you said about ‘not taking your shirt off for someone you just met’?” Syndiel smoothed his sleeve back out.</p><p>“You’ve got to be joking…” Vakarion’s ears burned, just a bit, “There’s no way.”</p><p>“Well…” Syndiel took a few quicker steps forward and glanced playfully over his shoulder, “I won’t say, and you have no way to find out.”</p><p>“Oh for the love of-“ Tharn stopped in his tracks, “Is this <em>sewer</em> really the place to be <em>flirting</em>?”</p><p>“They’re young.” Curinure grumbled, “They can’t turn it off.”</p><p>“IT ISN’T FLIRTING!” Vakarion shouted suddenly and shrilly.</p><p>“It’s kind of flirting.” Syndiel shrugged, “Try and keep it down. It’s echoey in here.”</p><p>Vakarion blanched a moment as the others continued onward. He relegated whatever that was to the ‘things not to think too hard on’ pile. The bottom of it. Right beneath what happened to Hinaalmo.</p><p>“Hey, hurry up!” Curinure called.</p><p>Vakarion shook his head and ran after them.</p><p> </p><p>The ‘entrance’ to the Halls of Torment, at least from the sewer side, was yet another grate, this one greater in size than the last. A bright blue light beamed out from behind it causing shadows from the bars to stretch long and far.</p><p>“Well, this is it. Go ahead and break it.” Abnur waved his hand at the two younger elves.</p><p>“Why us? Aren’t you a…” Vakarion glanced to Syndiel.</p><p>“Uh. Master wizard, necromancer, and Grand Chancellor.” Syndiel counted them off on his fingers.</p><p>“Yeah those.”</p><p>“Buuuttt… you can do the unlocking magic thing, right?”</p><p>“…does it have a lock?”</p><p>“Go look.”</p><p>Vakarion checked the grate and… yep. There was a lock. Some magical finger-twitching later and… nothing! There was a second lock, because of course there was. Another annoyance later and it was unlocked.</p><p>“…so were you born under the Tower?” Curinure asked as he opened the grate.</p><p>“I guess? Is that what that is?” Vakarion grunted as he tried to get the heavy piece of junk to move.</p><p>“If it’s intrinsic, maybe. Though a rarity.” Curinure stepped up to help, “Usually the boons the stars grant are unnoticeable… if they exist at all.”</p><p>“I was born under the Apprentice!” Syndiel announced, wanting to be a part of the conversation.</p><p>“That explains quite a lot actually.” Curinure sighed. He and Vakarion managed to open the grate.</p><p>“Alright, before we go in. A warning.” Tharn stepped forward, “This place is designed to mess with your heads on top of regular torture of the body. So do try not to get caught.”</p><p>“Right then. So where’s… uh…” Vakarion looked to Syndiel.</p><p>“Sai Sahan and Lyris.” Syndiel said.</p><p>“Them.”</p><p>“…we really don’t have to find Lyris, do we?” Tharn frowned.</p><p>“I mean… I don’t see why-“ Vakarion began, then stopped after seeing Syndiel glaring at him, “We need to find her because this place is evil and tortures people and that’s bad.” Vakarion watched Syndiel’s face as he said that, gauging his reaction. He received a nod of approval.</p><p>“Ugh. She’s probably near the actual entrance. Sai Sahan, if he is here, would be deeper in, but not so deep that Mannimarco would have to inconvenience himself too much to visit.” Abnur stepped inside, “…it smells like a wet horse in here.”</p><p>“What? Gross. Let me smell.” Vakarion was second in, “Ha! It’s wet <em>something</em>!”</p><p>“Ugh.” Curinure took Syndiel by the shoulder and ushered him inside, “So you’ve had experience down here, Chancellor?”</p><p>“A couple of times. I’d rather not elaborate.” Tharn looked around, “Clear. For now. Boy, be ready to cast your spell when I give the word.”</p><p>“Yes, sir!” Syndiel faux-saluted.</p><p>“Don’t do that either.” Tharn pointed to the left and started walking, “This way.”</p><p>“We’re doing an awful lot of walking today.” Vakarion looked up to the ceiling, “Not to… jinx things or whatever. Just an observation.”</p><p>“Well now you’ve gone and jinxed things.” Syndiel poked him.</p><p>“It’s okay. My current strategy of pushing luck until it snaps and hits me in the face has been working out pretty good so far.”</p><p>“Yeah. We’re going to have a talk about your approach when we get back to Nirn.” Syndiel thought, “Not a sentence I thought I’d say. Also, you’re going to learn basic magic.”</p><p>“Ew, why?”</p><p>“Uh… <em>because</em> <em>you need more than stolen swords to save the world?</em>” Syndiel nudged him, “Besides. You seem the type of person who enjoys setting things on fire.”</p><p>“Not… particularly. Though there was this one time with dazzlers that-“ Vakarion choked and tried to pass it off as a cough, “Fine. Yeah. Magic.”</p><p>Syndiel looked up at him with concern in his eyes.</p><p>“And don’t look at me like that!” Vakarion lightly shoved him away, “You haven’t… gone through the prerequisites.”</p><p>“Pfft… the ‘prerequisites’.”</p><p>“Yes. There’s a waiting period too.”</p><p>“How long?”</p><p>“Two weeks. Minimum. And that’s if your application is accept-“ Vakarion walked into a door. A big, muscular arm reached out of a little rectangular hole in it and pulled him into a headlock.</p><p>“Unlock the door and you’ll lose your head quickly.” A female voice came from the other side.</p><p>“Oh. You found Lyris.” Tharn walked to the door, “Kindly let go of the thing we need to stop Mannimarco.”</p><p>“THARN?! Is that you?!” she dropped Vakarion and tried to grab at him, “Come closer so I can kick your ass you bootlicking, brown-nosing, little-“</p><p>Vakarion spent a nice moment on the ground listening to Abnur and Lyris threaten each other before getting up to unlock her cell. As soon as that little ‘click’ rang out, the metal door flung open, sending him flying into a wall. Lyris marched up to Abnur to continue their screaming match face-to-face.</p><p>“Oh for the love of-“ Curinure shoved his way in between them, “Behave yourselves! You can kill each other when we’ve escaped!”</p><p>“He’s the reason we’re in this mess to begin with!” Lyris jabbed a finger at Tharn.</p><p>“Me?!” Tharn glared up at her, “Did they perhaps beat you over the head repeatedly?”</p><p>“If you hadn’t performed that ritual-“</p><p>“Hey.” Syndiel waved to them as he pulled Vakarion out from behind the door, “I thought you said it wasn’t the time for flirting.”</p><p>Both looked absolutely incensed, but at the very least their rage was directed away from each other.</p><p>Vakarion pointed at Lyris, “I remember you. Hello. I’m not pale anymore.”</p><p>“Wait… you’re the Vestige. What are you..?” Lyris looked from him to Abnur and back again.</p><p>“We’re on a rescue mission!” Vakarion threw his arms up, “I’m concussed!”</p><p>“Oh shoot! I should time how long it takes you to heal from this!” Syndiel patted himself down, “Damn it! I left my timepiece in Alinor.”</p><p>Lyris opened her mouth and looked to the wizards for an explanation.</p><p>“Your… er… ‘chosen hero’ roped us into this.” Curinure bowed his head, “And Auri-el might have chosen the wrong person.”</p><p>“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” Vakarion held a finger up, “Fuuuck you, Akatosh!”</p><p>“Don’t just- you can’t-“ Lyris pulled Vakarion up by his shirt, “Just shut up. We need to get out of here before someone comes sniffing around again.”</p><p>“Good, we’re in agreement.” Curinure nodded, “Have you heard talk of Sai Sahan, by chance?”</p><p>“N-no? Is he here?” Lyris’ brow furrowed. She slung Vakarion over her shoulder.</p><p>“Perhaps.” Tharn nodded towards a corridor, “We might as well check.”</p><p>“Alright.” She began down that way.</p><p>“AGAIN with the walking!” Vakarion laughed, “But now… I don’t gotta, unlike you PEASANTS!”</p><p>Syndiel ran up beside Lyris, “Please don’t drop him. It’ll mess up my count.”</p><p>“…who are you?” Lyris asked with a somewhat hurtful flippant tone.</p><p>“Syndiel. Uh… I’m his… Friend? Amnesia-alleviator? We really haven’t established much of working relationship yet and-“ he watched as she sped up, her longer legs outpacing him quickly, “Oh.”</p><p>Curinure clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, “Don’t lose count.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While planning and playing through quests I hit a wall, but figured out a way around it. He'll show up again later<br/>I'm excited for it<br/>Also I'm kind of glad I'm doing this because I get to learn new stuff and practice without any of the associated risks of publishing a thing to the masses under my flesh name, because I'm honest-to-god afraid of gaining a sizeable fanbase</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Dear lord, man!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Domestic disputes, emotional abuse, copious amounts of swearing, scopophobia(? damage to eyes), references to Abnur Tharn's incredibly fucked up love life</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                After a considerable and irritating amount of walking, dodging guards, and killing the odd Clannfear or Scamp, the group arrived at a very large door that simply screamed ‘I lead to something important’. It had large glowing eyes, for one thing. Incredibly gaudy. Flanking it on each side were large spike-fences put there purely for decoration. None of the spikes even had head on them.</p><p>Tharn shot two small motes of blue energy into each eye and the door slid upwards, revealing an unnecessarily massive room completely empty save for several worm cultists unconscious on the ground, and the center, at which was a glowing blue pad on the ground surrounded by three large talon-like structures. A man with no shirt was suspended above the pad by magic emanating from the talons. His eyes were glazed over, and his face was twisted into a frozen scream.</p><p>Lyris ran towards him.</p><p>“Wait, don’t-“ Abnur shouted, trying to stop her.</p><p>She made it halfway through the room when the other shoe dropped. A hot white light pulsed out violently from the pad, enveloping all in the room and leaving no shadow.</p><p> </p><p>“Sai! Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” Lyris tried to pull the bearded man free. He wouldn’t budge, so she decided to apply brute force to the source of the problem. She reared back and kicked the metallic talon clean in two. The Redguard fell to the ground after a small series of light magical explosions.</p><p>She quickly pulled him up and into a hug, sparing a laugh as he began to come to.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Vakarion blinked away the field-of-vision covering green splotch, and tried to shake away the ringing in his ears. A very subtle but still present ring remained in the background. He hoped it would go away eventually.</p><p>It would not.</p><p>He looked around. He was back at the grate that led to the sewers. Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him into the slime below as a Daedroth tromped by.</p><p>“What are-“ Vakarion looked back at Syndiel, who was scowling up at him covered in whatever foulness they had fallen into.</p><p>“This is asinine.” Syndiel tried, and failed to brush himself off.</p><p>“I mean... Yeah.” Vakarion agreed, “Where have you been?”</p><p>“Call me crazy but…” Syndiel looked away bashfully, “We could just… leave. Right?”</p><p>Vakarion blinked, “I-I mean. Isn’t there a whole ‘magic destiny’ thing?”</p><p>“There is. But…” Syndiel cocked his head to the side, “You don’t <em>want</em> to be a part of it. Do you?”</p><p>“I have made it abundantly clear that I do not.” Vakarion said dully.</p><p>“Then let’s go. Leave it to the people who know what they’re doing.” Syndiel took his hand, “I can open a portal right now.”</p><p>“A-alright... Alright!” Vakarion nodded a bit too quickly, “Do it!”</p><p>Syndiel let go of his hand and took a few steps back, a wry grin on his face. He clapped his hands together and summoned a portal in a bright white flash. He stepped through it, sparing a glance back at Vakarion as he went. Vakarion practically ran into the thing.</p><p> </p><p>Abnur Tharn stepped forward, “Hotheaded, arrogant…” he looked around and found himself face-to-face with a white marble wall. He looked up to see a decidedly in-tact and not-at-all covered in Daedric slime.</p><p>“Joy…” he grumbled, approximating exactly what kind of trickery this was. Something small barreled into his legs, nearly knocking him over. He prepared himself to take on a scamp, but when he looked down he saw a familiar face and his own eyes staring back at him.</p><p>“Sorry!” the child shouted before running off as two more chased after her.</p><p>Tharn’s brow furrowed. He reached up to run a han through his hair, and found his hairline was closer than it had been. A woman passed by, waving to him with a gentle smile.</p><p>He wanted to throw up.</p><p> </p><p>Curinure woke with a snort. It looked like he had fallen asleep at his desk. He had an ear-splitting headache, but it was mercifully quiet, for once. The mage stood and stretched, his back popped in a new spot and a wave of relief washed over him as a years-long tension melted away.</p><p> </p><p>Syndiel stumbled through a long hallway, the walls seemed to melt and warp. Paintings that were hung up lost color as it drained down onto the floor. He reached a plain wooden door with a brass doorknob. He tried to open it, but the doorknob disintegrated in his hand as he turned it. Not one to quit, Syndiel kicked the door until it opened.</p><p>“Was that really necessary, Syndiel?” A tall woman with rigid posture and cold eyes was waiting for him on the other side. She looked down at him, expressionless.</p><p>“Wh- mother? Oh thank the stars!” Syndiel ran to hug her, but seeing her make no move to reciprocate, he stopped in his tracks, “Where are we?” he looked around; they were in an octangular office. Bookshelves lined the walls and a large desk sat in the middle.</p><p>Aastarie leaned against said desk, “It’s obvious, is it not?”</p><p>“The hallway was melting, mom.” Syndiel looked to the books; words fell off the spines, scattering in the air like moths.</p><p>“Oh, great. Now look at what you’ve done.” She swatted away a swarm of Ps, “Not even a minute here and you’ve made a mess of things.”</p><p>“I…” Syndiel frowned; his brain wracked trying to put things into order, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Yes, well… Come on. Let’s see you.” Aastarie circled around him, “You really haven’t gotten much taller. Gods, what happened to your hair?”</p><p>“My-“ Syndiel thought, “Oh! A scamp bit it off! So there was this Daedric machine and… And I have so much to tell you! Guess who I met!”</p><p>“Hm? Who?” Aastarie held his eyelids back with two fingers as she inspected his eyes, “Look to the left, please.”</p><p>He obliged, “Vanus Galerion! AND Abnur Tharn! I’m two-for-two on wizards!”</p><p>“I’ve never understood your infatuation with… look to the right, please.” She waited, “Thank you. Your infatuation with such people. Most of their exploits are just tales to serve their own egos.”</p><p>“But I saw them!” Syndiel rubbed his eye once she let go, “They <em>do </em>have much, much more magicka than most of the Sapiarchs and battlemages I’ve seen walking around!”</p><p>“Ha! As if <em>that’s </em>such an accomplishment.” Aastarie moved to check his other eye, “Really, the bar’s been set ankle-high if you ask me.”</p><p>“I know. You say that every time I bring them up.” Syndiel huffed, “Where’s dad?”</p><p>“Oh, he’s off in the garden. As usual.” Aastarie inspected Syndiel’s hair next, “Gods above, these split-ends… We’re getting you fixed up, now. At least it’s an excuse to finally get you to cut your hair short, hm?”</p><p>Syndiel frowned, “Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Come now. We’ll get you looking <em>somewhat</em> presentable in no time.” She led him back through the door, which now led outside into a grassy field cut in two by a stone path, which they followed.</p><p> </p><p>Tharn stormed up the stairs of White-Gold and threw open the doors to the Council Chamber. Familiar faces, most of them now long-dead, sat around the large table at its center laughing and chatting. The sight of it absolutely disgusted Abnur to his very core.</p><p>“What is the meaning of this?!” he demanded.</p><p>Some looked up, and most of those went back to what they were doing. One stood.</p><p>“Now what has you so uptight?” he asked.</p><p>“Isn’t that his default?” someone called.</p><p>“Listen here, Daedra, hallucination… whatever you are!” Tharn sneered, “You are to let me out of this illusion at once!”</p><p>“Illusion?” the Councilor gave him a concerned look, “Friend, are you ill?”</p><p>“If I play along, do you agree to expedite this nonsense?”</p><p>“I… what?”</p><p>“Was there not a Dark Anchor floating overhead not but yesterday? If I remember correctly, a chain knocked in that wall.” Tharn pointed to said wall.</p><p>“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Councilor shook his head, “We are in the midst of a great new era of peace-“</p><p>“No.” Tharn raised a finger, “<em>No.</em> If this is what I think it is… and I’m typically right about such things… I would never allow myself such flowery, saccharine, <em>disgusting</em> thoughts. Peace, he says! True <em>peace </em>doesn’t exist, and if it did, it wouldn’t simply fall into my lap! That’s like saying the tooth fairy is real!”</p><p>“…what’s the tooth fairy?”</p><p>“Exactly!” Tharn stormed off.</p><p> </p><p>Curinure went about his morning routine. The apprentices were uncharacteristically well-behaved that morning. No explosions, no fires… Normally he would have relished it, but he couldn’t shake that he was missing something. Not to mention that odd dream he had…</p><p>His peace was interrupted by a loud thud. A garishly-dressed Altmer, clad in purples and golds and at least ten rings, strutted at him, arms outstretched.</p><p>“Brother!” the elf laughed, “It’s been so long! How have you been?”</p><p>“Alive.” Curinure smiled, “Unlike you. I’m fairly certain you died.”</p><p>“Pfft, yeah. I got better though!” he slapped the mage on the back with a familiar lack of regard for another’s skeleton.</p><p>“Right…” Curinure winced, “I think I’m starting to remember. I was in… Coldharbour of all places.”</p><p>“Daaamn! That’s incredible! But hey. You’re going to have to tell me that story later, because I have a <em>whole day</em> planned for us. There’s a bakery that just opened… I know the owner.”</p><p>“And you <em>haven’t</em> been banned?”</p><p>“The idiot thinks I’m charming! Come on!” he pulled Curinure along, “How’d you land this gig, by the way? Never pictured you as a… teacher? That’s what you do, right?”</p><p>“I wish. I mostly do paperwork and keep people from blowing themselves up…”</p><p>“How’s that working out?”</p><p>“Not well. And I got the job through hard work and commitment. Something I’m sure repulses you greatly.”</p><p>“I work plenty hard! Just not at the kind of stuff <em>you’d </em>think was worthwhile!” he pointed at a building, the smell of fresh, warm bread poured from the chimney, “There it is! Now, let me do the talking in here, alright?”</p><p>“It’s a <em>bakery</em>. What would possibly necessitate me keeping my mouth shut?”</p><p>“Bakers get skittish when they hear big words.” He put a hand on Curinure’s shoulder seriously, “You carry yourself like a minor bureaucrat on top of that. Really you should relax if you don’t want to scare off the local merchants.”</p><p>“I relax. I’m relaxing right now. I <em>know</em> this is all the result of head trauma or magic, and yet, here I am. Going along with things.” Curinure gestured broadly.</p><p>“Ha! That’s great. But seriously. Mouth shut.” He holds a hand up to one side of his mouth and whispers, “I might’ve fed some people a few lies that I <em>might </em>have forgotten the exaaact details of… I’m sure you understand.”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes. I do… Lead the way, then.”</p><p>He dragged Curinure inside, “Great! And don’t worry about work, you won’t be missed, I promise!”</p><p> </p><p>Syndiel hunched over in his seat as his mother searched through her frankly absurd amount of beauty products. The walls were still melting, and that was starting to seem more and more off to him. He was doing something important… As she passed him, Aastarie tapped him on the shoulder.</p><p>“Hey. Posture, young man. This is a basic concept.” She untied his loose ponytail, “Oh ye gods it’s worse unleashed.”</p><p>“…right! Daedra! Mom, the Planemeld-“ Syndiel sat straight up, trying to turn to face her.</p><p>She pushed him back into place, “Another flight of fancy? Really, Syndiel, let the mainland deal with their own problems. There’s no use in expending energy on their behalf.”</p><p>“It isn’t just a mainland problem!”</p><p>“Oh yeah? And are there any Daedra in Summerset?” she cut a large swath of hair off.</p><p>“…maybe? Shit I forgot about the orb and-“ Syndiel flinched as he felt Aastarie rear back for a slap, “Sorry! I didn’t-“</p><p>“We do not swear, Syndiel.” Aastarie said coolly, lowering her hand, “…now hush.” She resumed cutting. Chunks of pale blonde hair fell to the ground only to evaporate into grain.</p><p>“Something’s… wrong, mother.” Syndiel gripped the seat, “I just can’t-“</p><p>“I told you to hush.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” He loosened his grip and folded his hands neatly in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>Tharn was sitting in the living room of his home. Activity stirred around him as his family decorated for New Life. Children’s laughter and a delicious smell wafted out from the kitchen. The fireplace crackled, a warm glow lit up the room.</p><p>Tharn sat, glowering.</p><p>He hated every second of this juvenile display. Perhaps it wasn’t a pleasure-trap at all. Perhaps this was a new and irritating torture he hadn’t heard of. It was more likely than the idea that he <em>wanted </em>such trivial things. He was a politician first, battlemage second. And he had a job to do on top of that!</p><p>“Papa!” a young girl, Clivia, ran up to him, “Javad’s trying to be funny again! Tell him to stop!”</p><p>He remained resolute in his glowering, even as a completely unexpected wave of guilt washed over him, “Go tell him yourself.”</p><p>Clivia grinned wickedly as though she was just given a license to murder, she ran over to a young boy with messy hair and a missing tooth, “Dad said you have to shut up.”</p><p>The inevitable shouting and crying ensued and pretty soon a hallucination of his third wife was standing angrily in front of him.</p><p>“Care to explain yourself, mister?” she crossed her arms.</p><p>“Gladly. None of this is real and I’m free of consequence. Let them squabble.” Tharn leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“You are just-“ a familiar expression crossed her face, “It’s New Life! Can’t you at least <em>smile</em>?”</p><p>“Yes. Let me put on a <em>fake</em> smile for the <em>fake </em>people in my <em>fake </em>house!” he quipped, “Surely that will solve my problems.”</p><p>“You agreed to leave your philosophical postulating at the door!” her face shifted, morphing into that of his second wife.</p><p>He rolled his eyes, thoroughly unamused. Though now he was decided that this was, in fact, a new form of torture.</p><p>Fifth wife now, “This is exactly your problem! You have everything, <em>everything </em>you could possibly want, but that isn’t good enough, is it?”</p><p>“Have we graduated to the part where you try to make me feel bad?” Tharn waved his hands, “It won’t work, you’re wasting your time.”</p><p>“I don’t have to take this!” first wife, fourth wife, third, “I can just leave!”</p><p>“Go, then!” he stood, “It’d actually make things easier!”</p><p>“Fine! When you come home from work…” second, forth, first, “Whenever in Oblvion <em>that</em> might be… I won’t be here!”</p><p>“Yes, I’ve heard it all before. Don’t bother waiting, the door’s right there!” Tharn pointed to it.</p><p>She slapped him and stormed off. Sixth, first, second, forth. All right through the door.</p><p>Tharn slumped back into his chair, ignoring the big, terrified eyes staring at him from across the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom?” Syndiel broke the silence after a while, “Can I ask you something?”</p><p>“I don’t see why not.” she brushed hair from his shoulder.</p><p>“Am I dreaming?”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid.” She held up a mirror, “Now look, isn’t that better?”</p><p>Syndiel frowned, taking the mirror and turning his head side to side. He really hated how he looked with short hair. “Yeah. It’s better.”</p><p>“Good. Now. We have so much work to do. Don’t ever run off like you did again, it’s a huge inconvenience.” She took the mirror and set it down.</p><p>“I didn’t run off! I was-“ Syndiel winced, pain shot through his head, “I wasn’t- Someone hit me and knocked me into a boat.”</p><p>“Mhm… and why were you down by the docks?” Aastarie crossed her arms.</p><p>“I was… mad. And needed to get out of the house… Because father told everyone to pay me no mind, and of course, they took it literally.”</p><p>“And why would he do that..?”</p><p>“Because we were at-“ he stood up, “You died! You’re dead! How did I-“ he slammed a fist into his palm, “Coldharbour! This must be some kind of illusion or… why are you laughing?”</p><p>“It took you this long to figure it out?” Aastarie laughed bitterly, and then abruptly stopped, “Absolutely disappointing.”</p><p>“Well, I’d think the illusion wouldn’t just up and admit to it…”</p><p>“Normally, no. But you went and broke things with your stupid little plan. Plus, you ended up with me.” She flipped her hair, “And even a vestige of myself wouldn’t stoop so low as to <em>actually </em>endorse this masquerade.”</p><p>“Figures… even an image of you copied from my subconscious or… whatever this is wouldn’t at least <em>pretend</em> to be happy to see me.” Syndiel’s ears folded back, “You didn’t even smile.”</p><p>“And when do you remember me smiling when you knew me?”</p><p>“Are we counting bitter laughter? If not. Twice. Once was when the King died…” Syndiel crossed his arms, “What’s the purpose of this illusion?”</p><p>“Simple, to keep you happy and stupid. Give you what you want so you don’t leave.”</p><p>“So why did <em>you</em> show up?”</p><p>“Maybe you wanted to chase some fantasy where I’m not as I was. Maybe you broke the whole thing more than you thought. Or maybe you’re like me.” Aastarie tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, to little effect. She reached for a brush.</p><p>“Like you? How?”</p><p>“No time or need of things that are fake. There’s no time like the present, after all.” She turned the brush over in her hand, “Dreams, stories, passionate trysts with something unrealistic that will only end in disappointment. We’re above it.”</p><p>“…if that’s the case then why did you bother at all? Especially with me? What was the point of all the magic and experiments and tests and-“ Syndiel snatched the brush from her, “All of it!”</p><p>Aastarie glared down at him, “Because I wanted to see what would happen.”</p><p>Syndiel froze.</p><p>“I don’t like what I see, Syndiel.” She turned away from him as the world around them began to crumble, “So… what are you going to do now?”</p><p>“…leave. I’m leaving.” Syndiel looked down into a newly-formed hole in the illusion.</p><p>“Typical.”</p><p>“I’m not going to stick around to learn life lessons from an illusion of my bitch of a mother beamed into my head by Coldharbour.” Syndiel turned around, heels on the edge of the chasm.</p><p>“Excuse me?!” Aastarie turned around, “What did you say to me?”</p><p>“I called you a bitch! I’ll say it again too, you bitch!” Syndiel held his arms out, “I’ll say piss, shit, cock… I can even do it in other languages! How’s kaoc sound? Zuub! Lorkhan be praised! Ooh and my absolute favorite… ”</p><p>“Don’t you do it, young man…” She stepped towards him.</p><p>“Fffuck you!” he kicked a foot up and fell backwards into the abyss.</p><p> </p><p>He fell for an awful long time; darkness surrounded him, threatening to drag him into the depths of Oblivion. Monstrous visages stared out at him with contempt and rage. Until he hit the floor.</p><p>Syndiel scrambled to his feet and looked around. He was back in the chamber. All of his companions were standing frozen in the poses he had last seen them in. Except Lyris, who had been running. She was in a running pose on the floor. Gravity, and all.</p><p>He scanned the area and saw that the spell was anchored to the talons, but he had zero means of destroying them. He inspected each person. The magicka was condensed in the prefrontal cortex and eyes. Syndiel thought a moment, and walked to Vakarion, as he wouldn’t suffer any long-term consequences from what he was about to do.</p><p>Syndiel stuck out two fingers, took a deep breath, and jabbed them at his eyes doing his absolute best to avoid damaging them any more than a bruise.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion wiped the sweat from his brow. His hands were covered in little scabbed-over cuts and scrapes. He had spent the whole day trying to finish this damn room. His nose and cheeks stung - a harbinger of sunburn to come. He stood up, careful not to lose his footing, and admired his work.</p><p>“Oi, Vakarion!” Syndiel called from below.</p><p>Vakarion jumped, nearly falling from the roof. He caught himself just in time.</p><p>“Syndiel?” Vakarion looked down, “Stars above, it’s been ages! How have you been?”</p><p>“I cursed out my mom and realized I have some issues I need to sort out.” Syndiel sighed, “So… conflicted.”</p><p>Vakarion hopped down, “Sounds rough. Need to talk about it?”</p><p>“I’d rather not…” Syndiel scowled and looked at the house, “Did you… build this?”</p><p>The cabin was solid, well-built, and scaled to Vakarion’s unfair height.</p><p>“Yeah! I’ve been working on it for the past…” Vakarion looked back at it, “Uh. Time!” he beamed, chest puffed slightly with pride, “Want to see the inside? Oh! Or the garden! You’ll love this, there’s these gourds you can hollow out and birds nest in them!”</p><p>Syndiel fought very, very hard against the fact that he found this all incredibly charming, “You… chose to <em>build </em>your own house?”</p><p>“Well, yeah? That way the doors are high enough so I don’t slam my forehead into them at every turn.” Vakarion grinned, “Oh! And I found out that it feels really, <em>really </em>good to <em>make </em>things! I’ve been learning so many things about myself! You were right when you said we should just leave!”</p><p>“Pardon?” Syndiel tilted his head.</p><p>“Back in Coldharbour, we found Sai Sahan, got teleported back to the beginning, and you opened a portal back to Nirn.” Vakarion took his hand and pulled him to the garden, “Come on, one of the nests has eggs in it!”</p><p>“Vakarion, I-“ Syndiel grimaced, “This isn’t… real.”</p><p>“What? Of course it is.”</p><p>“I’m really, really sorry. I can’t open portals, this is an illusion. We’re still in that room in Coldharbour.”</p><p>Vakarion forced a smile, “That’s… not funny. You should work on your routine.”</p><p>“Look. I’m not lying. And believe me when I say that I wouldn’t just burst in here and rip away what peace you’ve found unless I was absolutely certain that-“</p><p>“Syndiel.” Vakarion cut him off, “Even if it isn’t… real. Can’t you just leave me here?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You knew me for two days before-“ Vakarion exhaled, “You don’t have a reason to be attached. If what you’re saying is true, you can leave me and save the others.”</p><p>“Okay. First off.” Syndiel steps up to him, standing as tall as he could, “I’m not leaving you to rot in Coldharbour, sir. Secondly, even if I were to abandon my principles, the others would drag you out anyway because you’re the ‘chosen one’, remember?”</p><p>“But I don’t want to be.” Vakarion looked down at him with pleading eyes, “Syndiel, please. I- I can’t- <em>I don’t want this.</em>”</p><p>“What about our plan?”</p><p>“You’re smart and have access to more smart people! You can figure it out!”</p><p>“Vakarion! I’m not leaving you in an illusion just to get found and killed by Mannimarco! This is nice, but it isn’t <em>real!</em>”</p><p>“It’s better than reality has been for me!” Vakarion snapped, “I just show up one day and people start bossing me around! Shoving me in a direction with little more than a ‘good luck’!”</p><p>“So tell them off!” Syndiel shouted, “Don’t let them push you around if you don’t want to be pushed around!”</p><p>“Oh and you’re one to talk!”</p><p>“<em>Excuse me?!</em>”</p><p>“I’m not <em>blind</em>. You wanted for Tharn to acknowledge you, and when he disregarded you… you looked defeated but didn’t do anything past that. It’s happened before too, hasn’t it?” Vakarion stands over him.</p><p>“People don’t <em>owe me </em>anything!”</p><p>“And I don’t owe Tamriel anything!”</p><p>Syndiel glared up at him, “Vakarion. You don’t have a soul. The world is being eaten by Molag Bal. There are people out there who need me to pull them out of an illusion. And I am this close to reaching up there and dragging you out of here by the tips of your ears. I get it, it’s unfair! But you’ve been <em>winning</em> so far. And if you keep <em>winning</em> then once the Planemeld’s over, you can go find yourself a nice little spot and build a cute little cabin in the <em>real world</em>, I promise you. Sound fair?”</p><p>“…” Vakarion shrunk down slightly, “…can I have one more minute?”</p><p>“Sure.” Syndiel squeezed his hand as the illusion began to crumble.</p><p>“I wanted to show you the birds.”</p><p>“You can show me.”</p><p>Vakarion nodded and led him to the garden. There were several gourds hanging from a tree, each with at least one hole in it. Colorful sparrows flitted about, singing their songs, completely unaware of the growing void around them.</p><p>“The orange one. I painted it so I’d know which had the eggs.” Vakarion hand was shaking, but had a vice-grip on Syndiel’s.</p><p>Syndiel glanced up, he felt pangs of guilt in his gut, “It looks lovely.”</p><p>“Thanks. I worked really-“ Vakarion choked, “Really hard.”</p><p>They watched the birds in silence as the illusion shattered… then faded away.</p><p> </p><p>The pair woke up. Vakarion wiped his suspiciously-wet face and pointed at Syndiel.</p><p>“You didn’t-“ he swore as he tried to gauge how puffy his eyes looked, “None of that happened!”</p><p>“I know.” Syndiel offered a smile, “Uh. Sorry about your eyes. I kind of had to poke them to wake you up. The magic’s behind them.”</p><p>“Oh. Yes, that’s-“ Vakarion blushed, “I wasn’t crying.”</p><p>“’Course not. So, who do you want to wake up?” Syndiel stood up, offering a hand to the taller mer.</p><p>Vakarion took it, “I don’t think I’m exactly… equipped to do that.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, neither am I.” Syndiel shrugged, “Rock-parchment-shears?”</p><p>“…what’s that?”</p><p>“Okay. Close your eyes and point a finger out.”</p><p>Vakarion did so, “Why?”</p><p>“Okay now spin around, I’m going to count down and when I hit zero, stop. That’s who you get to go in after.”</p><p>“I’m glad they’re all asleep… Okay. Three… two…” Vakarion started spinning around, feeling like an asshole.</p><p>“Five…” Syndiel began the countdown, closing his own eyes, “Four, three, two, one!”</p><p>Vakarion froze in place, and opened his eyes. He was pointing at Tharn.</p><p>“Aw, damn it!” Syndiel groaned, “His is probably the most interesting!”</p><p>“Ha! Okay your turn!”</p><p>Vakarion and Syndiel repeated the process. Syndiel wound up with Lyris. They both moved to their respective enthralled companion.</p><p>“So do I just… poke him in the eye?” Vakarion called over.</p><p>“Yeah, it worked last time. Don’t do it super hard! Maybe just try touching them?” Syndiel raised two fingers.</p><p>“Okay…” Vakarion hovered his hand over Tharn’s face, “…I feel a deep sense of repulsion, is that normal?”</p><p>“I mean it is kind of gross.” Syndiel tapped Lyris’ eyes and fell down on top of her, unconscious.</p><p>Vakarion shuddered and followed suit.</p><p> </p><p>Curinure sat across from his brother; he caught himself almost having fun.</p><p>“You did it again.” He pointed a breadstick at Curinure.</p><p>“Did what?”</p><p>“That thing where you start to laugh and then stop.” He bit into the breadstick, “Really… When did that start?”</p><p>“Well, around the time you died, I figure.”</p><p>“You really have to let that go, man!” he leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“I’m… sorry?” Curinure frowned, ears drooping heavily.</p><p>“It’s over! Done with! Nothing more to say on the matter.”</p><p>“It isn’t so simple…”</p><p>“Yeah. I guess.” He was quiet a moment, “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”</p><p>“What?” Curinure’s eyes snapped forward.</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault, Mr…” he thought, “Self-Blame-ington. No wait, that’s stupid.”</p><p>Curniure stared at him, thoroughly unimpressed.</p><p>“Well. Now that I’ve ruined the mood… you’re going to leave, right?”</p><p>“I do… suppose I should be going.” Curinure sighed heavily.</p><p>“Aww… you missed me!” he gave Curinure that infuriatingly overconfident shit-eating grin, “But really… You should go. Your apprentices will miss you if you stick around here with me.”</p><p>“Yes. And I need to break some news to Galerion.” Curinure stood.</p><p>His brother followed suit, “That’s riiight, you got in with the… what does he call himself?”</p><p>“The ‘Great Mage’. And he didn’t come up with it himself, but he <em>did </em>adopt it.” Curinure chuckled, “Oh to have but an ounce of that man’s confidence.”</p><p>He punched Curinure lightly in the shoulder, “Well, get back out there, then! And cause enough trouble up there for me!”</p><p>“I make no such promises.” Curinure rolled his eyes dramatically, and then stood still in silence a moment as the world began to fade around him.</p><p>“Something the matter?”</p><p>Curinure pulled him into a hug, “Wait for me in Aetherius, Ocallo.”</p><p>“…I will.” Ocallo hugged him tightly, “Also. You’re welcome.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“Being a <em>fantastic</em> mage, even from beyond the grave.” Ocallo grinned.</p><p>“Wait, what does that me-“ Curinure was unable to finish that statement before the void pulled him from his dream.</p><p> </p><p>Syndiel was on the back of a horse. It was galloping next to another two. Atop one was Lyris, and atop the other was Sai. Syndiel remembered he didn’t know how to ride a horse and screamed. This spooked the horse, causing it to buck him off. He landed face-first in some mud.</p><p>A moment later, a hand was outstretched toward him. He took it and was pulled roughly to his feet. A hand slapped his back.</p><p>“That was a beautiful arc, little elf!” Lyris laughed, “What’s the word… pirouette?”</p><p>“Thanks…” Syndiel spat out some mud, “I think <strong>Grande Jeté is closer to whatever that was.”</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“Bah. It’s all fancy Breton words. You’re… uh…” Lyris looked at him, “I am drawing a blank.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Syndiel. I helped bust you out of prison.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Ohhh, right! The Vestige’s friend! Hey whatever happened to him after the battle in Coldharbour?”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Uh.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Weren’t you there, too? We gathered armies from all three Banners, marched right up to Molag Bal, and beat the shit out of him!”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“That sounds utterly fantastic and I wish that were the reality of the situation, but it isn’t.” Syndiel eyed a horse warily.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Lyris’ smile faded, “I’m sorry, what?”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“We’re still in the room with Sai Sahan. You’re trapped in an illusion meant to give you what you want.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Lyris was quiet for a while; she then punched a nearby tree, “Gods DAMN IT! I am SICK of all these mind games!”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“You… believe me?”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Why shouldn’t I?!”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Oh my stars, <em>thank you.</em>”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Lyris punched the tree again.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Not-Sai Sahan hopped off his horse and walked over to her, “Heart, you really aren’t going to believe-“</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Lyris punched the illusion, “No! No more Daedric… Magic… BULLSHIT!”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Haaa…” Syndiel backed up, “I’m just going to stand over here.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Lyris continued her assault on the illusion. With each punch it weakened, shattering in places. At one point a large warhammer materialized in her hands and she went to town on the not-dirt with it. Syndiel feared for his life, and gladly welcomed the darkness that consumed them.</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Vakarion found himself walking up an obscene amount of stairs. He wasn’t too put-out by it. He quite enjoyed the architecture of wherever in Oblivion he was. Eventually he found a door leading outside. A much, much, <em>much </em>younger Abnur Tharn was sulking at the edge of the balcony? Rooftop?</p><p>He strolled over to Tharn and looked around. It looked like they were at the top of a very, very tall tower. The view was amazing. A bustling city below surrounded by miles and miles of green forest and a sparkling lake. The sky was bright and clear.</p><p>Vakarion whistled, “So, where is this?”</p><p>“The Imperial City. This is what it looked like before the Soul Burst… and before Leovic.” Tharn pointed to a cluster of trees on a hill, “Those were cut down during my childhood. This whole place is an anachronistic slurry meant to infuriate me.”</p><p>“Uh… I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to make you not want to leave.” Vakarion sat next to him, “A ‘deepest desires’ kind of thing.”</p><p>“I don’t want this! What’s the point of just… having a ‘happy ending’ dropped at your feet with no struggle, no effort?” Tharn spat, “Especially when said ‘happy ending’ is so condescending and childish!”</p><p>“…what about it is-“</p><p>“Everything!” Tharn snapped, “And nothing I do can break the damn thing!”</p><p>“Weird. Mine fell apart right after Syndiel came in and- hey, are you sure there isn’t <em>anything</em> about this that’s holding you back?” Vakarion looked to him.</p><p>“Positive.” Tharn practically growled.</p><p>“Nothing <em>at all?</em> Like your hair, your youth, this nice view?”</p><p>“My hair.” Tharn glared at him, “Really?”</p><p>“Hey, it’s your fantasy, not mine. Personally I kind of like the balding look. It makes you look kind of villainous and dangerous.” Vakarion thought, “Have you tried jumping?”</p><p>“Twice.”</p><p>“Third time’s the charm?”</p><p>A young woman tapped him on the shoulder, “Sir. Your daughter’s looking for you.”</p><p>“Grand.” Tharn stood up, “Come on, oh wise chosen one, we have a wedding to attend.”</p><p>“A what now?” Vakarion followed.</p><p>Tharn stopped in his tracks, causing Vakarion to bump into him.</p><p>“Are you serious?”</p><p>“…yes. What’s a wedding?”</p><p>“It’s a ceremony and celebration of a marriage.” Tharn explained.</p><p>“Great! And that would be..?”</p><p>“Marriage is a horrible thing where two people are tied together legally either for political reasons or because they were stupid and naive enough to buy into the notion of love instead of realizing it for what it actually is... Your loins telling you what you want to hear so they can embed themselves within another’s as often as they can.” Tharn said, not missing a beat.</p><p>Vakarion blinked, “Do you need to talk about anyth-“</p><p>“I’m. Fine.” Tharn continued down the stairs.</p><p>“Alright…” Vakarion resolved to definitely talk about that later. Out of curiosity if nothing else.</p><p>They arrived in a bedroom. A young woman with the same dirty-blonde hair as Tharn was facing away from them. Two maids were helping her put on a veil.</p><p>“Ugh, this thing is horrible! It tickles my nose!” the woman complained.</p><p>“This is my illusory daughter, Clivia.” Tharn gestured to her, “Clivia this is-“</p><p>“Hello, I’m Vakarion!” Vakarion stepped forward, hand extended.</p><p>Tharn smacked the back of his head, “Some respect, you simpleton!”</p><p>“Ow! What are-“</p><p>“You can’t just approach a noblelady like that!” Tharn glared him down.</p><p>“But she isn’t-“ Vakarion looked to Clivia as she turned toward him, and instantly recognized her face. The woman in regalia Mannimarco had dragged away… He made a very loud choking sound as all of the air forcibly expelled itself from his lungs.</p><p>“Hello.” Clivia curtsied, “You’re… one of my father’s friends?”</p><p>“Yes.” Vakarion barely wheezed out, his face pale.</p><p>“No, you’re not.” Tharn grumbled.</p><p>“Riight… well I do hope you’re here for the wedding.” Clivia looked to Tharn, “Have you checked in on Varen, yet?”</p><p>“Must I?”</p><p>“Papa… come on.” She flashed puppy-dog eyes at him.</p><p>Tharn did a great job of pretending they didn’t affect him… for about two seconds, “Fine. I’ll keep playing along. Come on. Leave her to dress.”</p><p>Vakarion followed Tharn out. Mind reeling.</p><p>They entered another room. A man Vakarion recognized as former-Emperor Varen Aquilarios was pacing as a little man with measuring tape tried to chase him down. Varen looked to the two as they approached.</p><p>“Oh thank goodness.” Varen smiled, “If there’s anyone who can shout cold-feet out of a person, it’s you.” He glanced to Vakarion, “And… er… hello. You are?”</p><p>“I’m Vakarion. Hi.” He managed a wave.</p><p>“Do you have no sense of protocol at all?” Tharn glanced sideways at him.</p><p>“Oh, give the man a break. He’s probably nervous to meet his <em>new emperor</em>.” Varen said with barely-veiled giddiness.</p><p>“Wait, so that makes you his-“ Vakarion glanced between the two humans.</p><p>“Father-in-law, yes.” Varen nodded, “Though he’ll never call it that.”</p><p>“I have sixteen children. I don’t need to add anymore.” Tharn mumbled, “Even if they’re honorary.”</p><p>“<em>Sixteen?!</em>” Vakarion blurted out, “Dear lord, man! Pull out!”</p><p>Tharn and the tailor looked at Vakarion with rage and abject horror respectively, Varen burst into laughter.</p><p>“I’m… uh- Yeah I’ll just wait outside.” Vakarion slipped out.</p><p>A long while way, the battlemage walked back out, immediately setting his long-maintained glare on the elf.</p><p>“Sorry. Words hit my brain and I just kind of…” Vakarion fidgeted, “Say them.”</p><p>“<em>I’ve noticed</em>.” Tharn sat on a stair, looking almost defeated. Almost. “I just want out of this.”</p><p>“Why?” Vakarion sat next to him, “Is it because you don’t have to work for it?”</p><p>“That… and it just reminds me of all the things that infuriate me. Clearly I have enough of that in reality.”</p><p>“Like what?” Vakarion asked, “Specifically, that is.”</p><p>“For starters… Varen wasn’t Clivia’s first husband. That went to a man named Leovic. A usurper who did it just to legitimize his claim. He didn’t even pretend to care for her.”</p><p>“So you… really care about her, then?”</p><p>Tharn snorted, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not some doting father fretting over his poor, defenseless little girl. Clivia is a smart, cunning woman. As she should be, I raised her to be just that.”</p><p>“I didn’t say that she wasn’t, I just asked if you cared about her.” Vakarion raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“…yes. I… ‘care’.” Tharn murmured.</p><p>“I heard those air-quotes.” Vakarion leaned back, “I’m pretty sure <em>loving your kid </em>isn’t a thing to be ashamed of. And can we talk about your phrasing?”</p><p>“What phrasing?”</p><p>“You ‘raised her to be just that’?”</p><p>“Yes. I prepared her, as much as I could, to one day take the Ruby Throne. She had only the best tutors and schooling.” Tharn spoke with pride in his voice, “I taught her magic, myself.”</p><p>“That seems just a bit…” Vakarion mulled over the words that would be least likely to get him beaten to near-death by a necromancer, “Off?”</p><p>“<em>Off?</em>” Tharn looked ready to beat him to near-death already.</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait… I’m just saying that… uh, maybe- Maybe she’s the reason you’re still stuck here?”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Maybe… on a deeper level, you feel guilty about preparing her to be Empress and then having her wind up in an unhappy marriage because of that?” Vakarion braced himself for a magical ass-whooping.</p><p>Tharn scoffed, “Please. I helped kill the man and then she married the next Emperor, who was far more palatable until the Soul Burst.”</p><p>“Did she ever want to be Empress?”</p><p>Tharn was quiet.</p><p>“Do you know?”</p><p>“This line of questioning is inane. I stand by any and all decisions I’ve made and live with no regrets.” Abnur said with the voice of a man who was buried so deep in regrets he learned to swim through them.</p><p>“Riiight…” Vakarion looked around, “The illusion isn’t breaking.”</p><p>“I’ve noticed.”</p><p>“Uh. There’s something you should probably-“ Vakarion paused, “When was the last time you saw Clivia? In the flesh world?”</p><p>“Don’t call it that.” Abnur thought, “She had wedged herself in Mannimarco’s pocket.”</p><p>“What… was the deal you made with him, speaking of?”</p><p>“My holdings and children would be protected, in exchange for my cooperation and service.”</p><p>“What made you decide to break that arrangement?”</p><p>“I already told you.” Tharn huffed, “I’m not stupid. His ambitions run perpendicular to Bal’s, and nobody crosses Molag Bal without suffering immensely from it. If I pull out-“ he stopped and glared at Vakarion a second, daring him to snicker, “If I pull out now, and we win. I can ensure that they remain protected.”</p><p>“I see.” Vakarion nodded slowly.</p><p>“Why are you asking?”</p><p>“I’m… sorry.” Vakarion gave him a sympathetic look.</p><p>Abnur sat up straight, eyebrows forming a knot between them, “What happened.”</p><p>“Mannimarco… he didn’t keep his end of the deal either.” Vakarion’s ears fell back, “I saw… when we were tailing him. Clivia isn’t- she-“</p><p>Abnur sat there, a brief look of shock, then outrage, then nothing. All he mustered was a simple, quiet “Oh.”</p><p>Vakarion put a hand on his shoulder. Abnur’s appearance shifted back to its true state as he buried his face in his hands. White-Gold began to shake and sounds of violence roared outside. The two remained quiet as everything was reduced to rubble around them.</p><p> </p><p>Abnur and Vakarion awoke. Syndiel was poking at a cultist with his boot while Curinure and Lyris were inspecting Sai’s prison. Abnur looked to Vakarion with a deadly look in his eyes.</p><p>“You will not speak of what you saw.” He hissed.</p><p>Vakarion nodded.</p><p>“Oh, you’re awake! Great!” Syndiel trotted over, helping Vakarion up, “Curinure thinks that the three of us mages can siphon the magicka from that thing long enough for you and Lyris to pull Sai out.” Syndiel then whispered to Vakarion, “You were right. His beard IS glorious.”</p><p>“I know!” Vakarion whispered back, “That thing was forged by the <em>Gods!</em>”</p><p>“Right, then. Let’s do it.” Tharn stood up, brushing himself off.</p><p>“What? No scathing remarks, Tharn?” Lyris sneered, “Don’t you think you can come up with a better plan?”</p><p>Tharn just glared at her.</p><p>Lyris frowned, something was wrong. She decided not to comment on it and just accept the fact that he wasn’t planning on asserting his own ego.</p><p>“So. Each of us takes one of these things.” Curinure knocked on a metal talon, “Are you up for it?”</p><p>“<em>Of course I am</em>.” Tharn stomped over to one and placed a hand on it, “Let’s get this over with.”</p><p>Syndiel moved to the empty talon.</p><p>Vakarion and Lyris positioned themselves near Sai. One to push him out, one to pull.</p><p>“Alright… on my mark.” Curinure began, “Three, two… go!”</p><p>The three mages began siphoning the magic from the talons. Mannimarco’s voice began screaming in their minds.</p><p>‘WHERE IS THE AMULET OF KINGS, WHERE IS THE AMULET OF KINGS?’</p><p>Over.</p><p>And over.</p><p>And over.</p><p>And over again.</p><p>Lyris pulled Sai as hard as she could, Vakarion pushing.</p><p>The voice echoed out into the chamber, repeating those same six words over…</p><p>And over.</p><p>And over again.</p><p>“What in the-“ Vakarion scowled, then lost footing as Sai was freed. Vakarion, Sai, and Lyris were launched slightly by it and fell to the ground. The mages stopped but the device kept screaming…</p><p>‘WHERE IS THE AMULET OF KINGS?’</p><p>“Is this that egotistical <em>idiot’s</em> grand plan for getting him to talk?!” Tharn covered his ears, “To scream the answers out of him?”</p><p>“Stars above that’s obnoxious!” Curinure grimaced.</p><p>“It’s actually kind of funny…” Syndiel added.</p><p>“We need to get back to the-“ Curinure was cut off by a pale white portal opening in a flurry of moths, “Oh.”</p><p>The door flung open and Mannimarco stormed in with a gaggle of Worm Cultists, “THARN!”</p><p>“And that’s our cue.” Abnur ran through the portal, “Get better accommodations, next time, Worm King!”</p><p>Curinure and Lyris, both carrying Sai were next.</p><p>Mannimarco flung a fireball at Syndiel, who barely managed to duck under it and into the portal. He glanced back over his shoulder, just to see the half-altmer from before smiling at him from the crowd of</p><p>“Hey Mannimarco!” Vakarion backed up to the portal.</p><p>Mannimarco stormed up to him, wreathed in blue energy.</p><p>“WefoundTharnbecauseofyou.” Vakarion fell back into the portal, “SUCK ON THAT!”</p><p>The portal closed behind him, and the spot in which it existed was blasted repeatedly and with prejudice. Mannimarco then paused, a confused look crossing over his face.</p><p>He looked back to the cultists, “Does anyone here know who that was?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not gonna lie<br/>when I type my hands look like a witches hands<br/>that sorta villainous hand dangle<br/>It's good for my wrists<br/>I think</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Not important, then.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Syndiel hid behind a large rock as the others filled the Prophet in on everything that came to pass. Abnur Tharn was getting chewed out by Lyris intermittently as he and Vakarion tried to explain things, Curniure was disassociating in the corner, and Sai Sahan was unconscious. Overall nobody was having a good time.</p><p>Syndiel, meanwhile, was trying to figure out a way to expel the ambient Coldharbour magicka he was carrying around. He settled on using it to make an illusory rat dance and run around in front of him while he listened to the bickering. The rest he would expend later. Probably. Hopefully.</p><p>His ear quirked a bit when Lyris accused Tharn of being a lying, cowardly toady to the King of Worms. <em>That </em>nearly came to blows until the Prophet stood between them.</p><p>“Lyris, stand down.” he commanded, “Are we not guilty of our own deceit? It’s time for the Ve- Vakarion to know the truth.”</p><p>“Oh, you didn’t tell him. How…” Tharn waved a hand, “I actually can’t put a word to it. Droll? Annoying? Expected?”</p><p>“Sir, don’t-“ Lyris began, but shut her mouth when the Prophet raised a hand.</p><p>The Prophet turned to face him, “You have known me as the ‘Prophet’, but I’m truly-“</p><p>“Emperor Viren Agularios, right?” Vakarion played with the Daedric sword. He decided that he would make a nice display for all the swords he had stolen and would steal once he got that house.</p><p>Everyone stared at him in silence. Syndiel clamped a hand over his mouth.</p><p>“…what? Was it-“ Vakarion looked around, “Did I pronounce it wrong?”</p><p>“Yes… You did. But- How did you..?” The Prophet was blindsided.</p><p>“I kind of guessed it when you took us into your head. For one thing, how would <em>you, </em>a third party know about all of that stuff unless you were there?”</p><p>“I explained every-“ Varen ran a hand down his face.</p><p>“The Elder Scrolls!” Lyris stepped forward, “They show prophecies! Surely he told you that he studied them?”</p><p>“I didn’t pay attention to that part. It didn’t seem important.” Vakarion shrugged, “Then I saw his face and you two had the same nose.”</p><p>“But he’s so much… <em>older</em>!”  She pointed at Varen.</p><p>“Thank you, Lyris.” Said Varen.</p><p>“Well… yeah. I wasn’t entirely clear on how much time had passed, so…” Vakarion shook his head, “Anyway, I was already pissed off so I checked by insulting the Emperor and watching this guy’s reaction.” He jabbed a thumb at Varen, “It added up but I wasn’t one-hundred percent on it until Abnur-“</p><p>“Do not address me by my first name.” Tharn interrupted.</p><p>“…the Chancellor said some stuff that confirmed it.” Vakarion continued, “It really wasn’t that hard to figure out.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you say something?” Varen asked.</p><p>“I dunno. Maybe it has something to do with the teeny, tiny little fact that…” Vakarion’s voice shifted slightly, “<em>I don’t like you.</em>”</p><p>Awkward silence and at least seven different emotions hung in the air.</p><p>Curinure stepped forward, “You mean to tell me… the Planemeld, the Soul Burst, the damage wreaked during and after the Colovian Revolt… is <em>your </em>fault?” he approached the Prophet, though Lyris blocked his progress.</p><p>“Yes.” Varen nodded, “It is.”</p><p>“I thought we already established that the blame falls on a bunch of people.” Vakarion raised a hand, like an idiot, “And a god.”</p><p>Curinure stared down the former emperor a long while before turning to leave, “I’m going to confer with Galerion. If I am to assume correctly… That little detail should be kept quiet, right?”</p><p>The Prophet nodded.</p><p>“Enjoy your cave, your <em>highness.</em>” Curinure left.</p><p>Vakarion watched him leave and laughed a bit, “Stars… he was <em>seething.</em> So this whole thing is actually <em>worse</em> than I’ve been lead to believe?”</p><p>“Surely you’ve seen the damage?” Tharn glanced to him.</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“You really were just thrown into this mess blind, weren’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Vakarion pointed to Lyris, “She carried me for a good part of our escape from Coldharbour. Then when I woke up in Nirn…” he pointed to Varen, “His ghost told me to find him in Auridon. I didn’t know what any of those places even <em>were </em>until after all was said and done.”</p><p>“And…” Tharn looked to Varen, “This is the one the Scrolls foretold would face Bal? Did Lyris not simply grab the wrong person on the way out?”</p><p>“Wait, is that a possibility?”</p><p>The Prophet shook his head, “If he <em>weren’t</em> the one, then Akatosh wouldn’t have blessed him.”</p><p>“Hey, can we talk about that at some point?” Vakarion asked, “I’ve been having weird dreams and-“</p><p>“The prophecy was vague, anyhow.” Lyris interrupted, “It just said something like… ‘the soulless one will shine the brightest’.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s another thing. How am I supposed to get my-“ Vakarion tried again.</p><p>“My Lord…” Sai awoke, standing with much difficulty, “Is…” he looked around, “Is there not a bed?”</p><p>“Apologies, friend.” Varen bowed his head, “We’ll find something.”</p><p>“Can I just-“ Vakarion went for a third.</p><p>“We aren’t working with much…” Lyris kneeled next to Sai.</p><p>Syndiel peeked out from behind the rock and gestured at the exit. Vakarion sighed, waited for the Prophet to turn, and left. Syndiel scampered after him.</p><p>Tharn raised a brow, cloaked himself, and followed.</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the sun had begun to sink below the horizon. Some nearby seagulls were fighting over the corpse of a mudcrab.</p><p>“I can’t believe that’s the <em>Emperor</em>!” Syndiel sat on a rock, pulling down the upper half of his robe and tying it around his waist, exposing his undershirt, “He’s so… <em>tiny.</em>”</p><p>“You didn’t see the visions, but... He was about that short in those too.” Vakarion sat next to him.<br/>Syndiel nudged him and pointed to the seagulls, “Look. Birds.”</p><p>“Ugh. Ass.” Vakarion shoved him lightly, “Why do you think he got… old so fast?”</p><p>“Time’s wonky in Oblivion. Maybe something happened there?” Syndiel shrugged.</p><p>“Speaking of. What was your…” Vakarion paused, “Vision-prison? Illusion thing.”</p><p>“I was at home with my mother.” Syndiel answered with no trace of emotion, “She passed away recently, so it makes sense.”</p><p>“Oh.” Vakarion frowned, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be. It was… nice to see her one last time.” Syndiel then aggressively wrenched control of the conversation and redirected it, “So… Mannimarco was kind of a let-down.”</p><p>“Yeah. He doesn’t…” Vakarion thought, “Command too much of a presence, does he?”</p><p>“Maybe we caught him on a bad day?”</p><p>“Honestly… he can keep having bad days if it makes our job easier. I don’t know if I can deal with the Emperor back there much longer.”</p><p>“Curinure looked like he wanted to rip his head off.” Syndiel mused, “Seen plenty of <em>that </em>expression back home…”</p><p>“So I know why <em>I </em>hate the man, but why..?”</p><p>“Why would the layperson? Well, considering we’re about the only people who know that he was responsible for the Soulburst...”</p><p>“Partially responsible.”</p><p>“Partially responsible for the Soulburst.” Syndiel continued, “There’s itty, bitty little detail of the <em>Three Banners War</em>. You know… a bunch of morons fighting over a Daedra-infested city because they think sitting on a chair will suddenly make them Emperor of All Things.”</p><p>“Oh.” Vakarion’s eyes widened, “Oh shit! I was supposed to meet the Queen!”</p><p>“Yeah. Try not to tell her too much about… this.” Syndiel looked up at him, “I might not be there to keep you from saying something stupid. I have to meet someone this evening too.”</p><p>“What? Who?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Syndiel pat his arm, “You’ll find out later. It’s Queen-related. Don’t tell her about that either.”</p><p>“Scheming, are we?” Tharn uncloaked himself.</p><p>“Yes. Actually.” Syndiel nodded. Vakarion nearly fell off the rock in surprise.</p><p>“I didn’t have the two of you figured as the types to get involved in politics.” Tharn shook his head, “<em>Altmeri</em> politics, on top of it.”</p><p>“It wasn’t entirely consensual on either of our parts. We just got thrown into it.” Syndiel stood, “I do intend to make the most of it, though.”</p><p>“Do you, now?” Tharn raised an eyebrow, “You seem awfully confident. It would be a shame if whatever it was you were planning was to become… public knowledge.”</p><p>“It would be.” Syndiel tilted his head, “Is this your way of saying you want all of the details so you can decide whether or not to tell me to stop?”</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>“Well, is a beach the best place to talk about it?”                                                           </p><p>“It is not.” Tharn opened a portal, “In here, if you would.”</p><p>“…If I wasn’t still starstruck I wouldn’t even consider stepping through that thing.” Syndiel glanced back to Vakarion as he left, “See you back at the guildhouse.”</p><p>The pair left through the portal, leaving Vakarion very, very confused.</p><p>“The fuck was that?”</p><p>“Excellent question.” Razum-dar stepped out of a shrub, looking angry, “<em>What was that?</em>”</p><p>Vakarion’s face lit up, “There you are! I was afraid you forgot-“</p><p>Raz held a knife up to his throat, “Who was that? The man who just opened that portal.”</p><p>“First off… We both know that this isn’t a threat to me.” Vakarion pointed to the knife, “And that was Chancellor Tharn. He’s helping with the whole ‘stopping the Planemeld’ thing.”</p><p>“Jone and Jode.” Raz sheathed the knife, “Okay… The Queen doesn’t have to know about this…”</p><p>“Okay, great!” Vakarion clapped his hands together, “Glad that’s sorted!”</p><p>“You don’t understand. There is… history there. History Raz does not know the details of, yes. But still history. The Queen hates him, and he is a dangerous person.”</p><p>“So it’s a <em>good thing</em> he’s on Team ‘Stop-the-Planemeld’. Right?”</p><p>Razum-dar glared at him, “You are frustrating me today, Five-Claw.”</p><p>“Sorry?” Vakarion glanced down at his nails, he had five but they didn’t look like claws.</p><p>“What is in that cave?”</p><p>“One old man, an unconscious, shirtless man with a fantastic beard, and a giant woman.” Vakarion counted each off on his fingers, “I wouldn’t go in there, it’d be annoying if they had to relocate. I’d have to track them down again…” he paused, “That is to say; Syndiel will have to track them down.”</p><p>“Who is Syndiel?”</p><p>“Oh, he’s been helping me. I knocked him into the ocean and-“</p><p>“Not important, then.” Raz huffed, “I cannot just let a cave of possible threats sit uninvestigated.”</p><p>“I investigated them.” Vakarion smiled, “And in return for my help you could just take my word that they want absolutely nothing to do with the Dominion and aren’t a threat.”</p><p>“In the interest of keeping the Queen’s blood vessels un-popped… Deal.”</p><p>“Great! So what are we doing?”</p><p>“What do you know of the Veiled Heritance?” Raz asked.</p><p>“Absolutely nothing!”</p><p>“…yes, that’s about right. Well.” Raz scratched his chin, “Who they are does not matter so much. But there is word that these people wish to assassinate the Queen.”</p><p>“Oh sh-“ Vakarion cut himself off, feeling as though he had said ‘shit’ too many times that day, “Okay. Just tell me what you need me to do.”</p><p>“Finally! Good words to hear!” Raz slapped his back, “Come along, Raz will fill you in on the details as we walk.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact<br/>in Bal Foyen when you get the treated netch eggs, you can use them on ANY covenant troops in the overworld, even if they aren't in the field where you're supposed to use them. Use 'em on the guys up by the signal fires</p><p>This has been another episode of 'ESO speedrun strats buried in the A/N of a fanfiction'</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Ten Minutes.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                One long, boring, drawn-out conversation rife with exposition about his plans later, Syndiel stepped out of a portal and back onto the beach outside of the cave full of old people. Tharn was off to do… wizard things Elsweyr. He meandered back to Vulkhel Guard, and made it to the docks when a gauntleted hand tapped his shoulder.</p><p>“Come with me, citizen.” Astanya grabbed his forearm and dragged him into a warehouse. There were five or so of her guards, the old man, and an Altmer in fancy clothes he didn’t recognize.</p><p>“Where were you? And why do you smell awful?” Astanya shoved him inside, “We were just about to start.”</p><p>“Ow…” Syndiel caught himself on a crate, “I was taking a walk. What are we-“</p><p>“Astanya, honestly, did we <em>need</em> to wait for this… child?” the well-dressed Altmer sneered.</p><p>“No, but he’ll be useful.” Astanya jabbed a thumb towards Syndiel, “He knows an invisibility spell.”</p><p>“...ah. So he’ll be the one to smuggle the poison in, then?”</p><p>Syndiel wheezed.</p><p>“Yes.” Astanya turned towards him, “It’s a simple enough job that even the likes of <em>you</em> couldn’t screw it up. You and Norion will go retrieve some vials, then you sneak into the banquet and set them next to a cask marked with a white circle.”</p><p>“Feel free to pour some into Vicereeve Pelidil’s goblet on your way out…” the well-dressed mer (presumably Norion) murmured.</p><p>“Okay… What will the rest of you be doing?” Syndiel asked.</p><p>“Handling the inevitable clusterfuck.”</p><p>“Aaand… if anyone besides the Queen gets poisoned?”</p><p>“You need to break a few eggs to overthrow a tyrant, kid.”</p><p>“Again. I’m thirty-three.”</p><p>“And I’m seventy-six.” Astanya glared at him. “Just do your job.”</p><p>“I’m two-hundred and fifty!” the old man raised a finger.</p><p>“…I’m forty-nine.” A guard joined in.</p><p>“The next person to spout off their age is getting the rack.” Astanya pinched the bridge of her nose and waited a moment, “Now that we’re done… go do your jobs.”</p><p>“Of course, Captain.” Norion walked to a side door, beckoning for Syndiel to follow. He ran to join him and the two made their way toward another warehouse.</p><p>“…” Norion glanced to Syndiel, “Any reason your skin is blotchy?”</p><p>“Oh. Uh.” Syndiel looked at the back of his hand, there was a discolored patch, luckily his veins weren’t glowing anymore, “Allergic reaction. You should have seen my face puff up.”</p><p>“So long as you don’t go into anaphylactic shock on the job…” Norion suddenly stopped, grabbed Syndiel, and pulled him into a bush.</p><p>Vakarion was walking out of a warehouse, holding a purple vial and swirling the contents around, transfixed with the liquid.</p><p>“Damn it! Did the Eyes find the stash?” Norion loud-whispered.</p><p>“…yeah, it looks like it.” Syndiel spoke directly from his ass, “He probably has backup. Nobody would be so stupid as to just walk out holding the thing we’re after high up for everyone to see unless it was a trap.”</p><p>“Fantastic. You need to go find Astanya and tell her what happened.”</p><p>“Um. Alright? What about-“</p><p>“Tell her I’m heading to Tanzelwil to get started in case plan B ends up failing.” Norion left the bush.</p><p>Syndiel cloaked himself and ran off to find the Captain.</p><p> </p><p>-One Hour Prior-</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. So the Veiled Heritance want the Queen dead because they are evil <em>and also</em> racist?” Vakarion asked Razum-dar, “And you think they’re going to try and kill her either during or after her address to the nobility of Southern Auridon.”</p><p>“That is what this one said, yes.” The khajiit nodded.</p><p>“Works for me. So what do you want me to do? Body-block any arrows coming for her?”</p><p>“That is plan B. It is best to head things off at the pass though, is it not?” Raz threw a new shirt at Vakarion, “Now get changed, you look like you waded through Daedra guts and smell even worse.”</p><p>Vakarion ducked behind a changing curtain, “Gladly!”</p><p>“As for your part… for now all the tall and incredibly-difficult-to-find-clothes-for one just needs to speak with the guard captain and ensure preparations are running smooth.” Raz waved a hand, “Work this one cannot be bothered with.”</p><p>“I am so glad you just up and said that. Also this is a size too small.” Vakarion poked his head out, “It’ll work though.”</p><p>“If you did not disappear you could have been properly fitted.”</p><p>“Oh, hey, speaking of. I’m going to need armor at some point.” Vakarion thought, “Okay, not <em>need,</em> but it’d still be nice.”</p><p>“If the Queen survives the day, Raz will get you some armor.” He paused, “And a sword that is not so… evil-looking.”</p><p>“<em>Yesss…</em>” The horrible little magpie whispered as he stepped out from behind the curtain, “Alright, so who is this captain and where can I find them?”</p><p>“Her name is Astanya. She and Raz go far, far back. A loyal member of the Dominion and this one’s friend. You should be able to find her near the chapel preparing for the festivities. Simply tell her old Raz sent you.”</p><p>“Got it. Oh, and if you see Syndiel, can you tell him where-“</p><p>“This is a covert operation. I’m sure you can find Samiel-“</p><p>“Syndiel.”</p><p>“-Syndiel later.”</p><p>Vakarion felt a need to protest but killed it, “Aye. I’m off, then.”</p><p>“Yes, go on.” Raz waved as he left, “I will find you if I need your assistance.”</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion took four wrong turns trying to find his way to the chapel. An impressive feat considering the land it was sitting on was raised and the entire courtyard was decorated to the nines. There were even swans wandering about. Vakarion’s obliviousness truly knew no bounds.</p><p>Once he eventually found his way there… he was hit with the sudden realization that he had no idea what the guard captain looked like. The last guard captain he had met had bigger shoulder pads than the guards she was captaining, ergo, the same concept must have been universal.</p><p>It was not.</p><p>After he spent a solid five minutes staring guards down, trying to measure their pauldrons with his eyes… he caved and asked one where Astanya was. He was pointed in the right direction. The captain was near a table with two wine casks, one marked with a little white ‘x’.</p><p>“Hey there!” Vakarion approached with zero hesitance or formality, “Uh. ‘Old Raz’ sent me in his stead to help with preparations.”</p><p>Astanya gave him one of the dirtiest looks he had gotten thus far. It made him feel small and guilty. The glare gave way to an almost disappointed frown. “And here I thought the cat would actually bother to stick around now that his beloved Queen was in the picture.”</p><p>“Ha. That was a weird thing to say.” Vakarion actively chose not to acknowledge it further, “Anyway. Is there anything you need me to do or..?”</p><p>“Go… talk to steward Eminwe.” Astanya’s nostrils flared, just a bit, “Keep her busy and stay out of my hair. I need to make sure everything goes <em>flawlessly.</em>”</p><p>Vakarion tilted his head slightly, “Raz said you were a loyal member of the Dominion… Guess he was right! Looks like you’re tying yourself in knots getting all of this set up!”</p><p>She looked about ready to burst a vessel, “I… thank you. I do my best to ensure what needs to be done is done.”</p><p>“So… who’s Ermine and what do they look like?”</p><p>“<em>Her name is Eminwe.</em>” She all but hissed, “You’ll find her at the docks. Short, blonde, dark eyes… I believe she’s wearing a red dress.”</p><p>“Got it!” Vakarion saluted in a purposefully wonky manner, “Long live the Queen!”</p><p>A vein made itself visible on the captain’s temple, “Yes. Long live the Queen. Please leave.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am!” Vakarion turned on his heel and ran off toward the docks.</p><p>Astanya took a long, deep breath. She poured herself a glass of wine, drank it, and also began the walk towards the docks.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion had a less horrible time finding Eminwe, considering she was standing one-legged atop a post.</p><p>“Hello, I’m Vakarion. Professional busy-worker, sent by Captain Astanya.” He approached, “Here to work your busy- Wait, no. Give me a moment-“</p><p>“NO TIME!” Eminwe jumped down, slamming both of her hands down on Vakarion’s shoulders and holding them tight, “We need to be inconspicuous… There’s a <em>plot </em>afoot.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s kiinda why I’m here.”</p><p>“PERFECT.” Eminwe dragged him behind a shed, “Alright, soldier, what all do you know so far?”</p><p>“In general or..?”</p><p>“YES. Wait no. That would take too long.” Eminwe tapped her chin, “The short of it is… I believe there are forces at work who want to make the Queen un-alive.”</p><p>“I knew that.” Vakarion nodded.</p><p>“YES! You beautiful gift from the stars!” she grabbed him by the forearms, “Then I don’t have to say who it is behind it, do I?”</p><p>“…how about we both say it at once?”</p><p>“Alright! Good idea. On the count of three…” Eminwe began the count, “One… two… Three!”</p><p>“Captain Astanya and the Veiled Heritance.” Vakarion said.</p><p>“Reymon Ebonarm and the Veiled Heritance!” Eminwe proclaimed, “Wait Astanya?”</p><p>“Who on Nirn is <em>Reymon Ebonarm</em>?” Vakarion asked. It was a good question. <em>Who in blazes is ‘Reymon Ebonarm’? </em></p><p>“No, no. Why do you think it’s her? She’s a good woman.”</p><p>“It’s a hunch. At the very least she hates the Queen… also I’m pretty sure she painted an ‘x’ on a wine-barrel and, though I honestly have no basis for this… my gut tells me that it’s a suspicious thing to do.”</p><p>Eminwe thought, “Was it her who painted this foul letter?”</p><p>“She was standing next to it?”</p><p>“So it could have been someone else! Coincidence, is all. There is no way someone as steadfast and loyal as she could ever-“ Eminwe clapped, it triggered Vakarion’s tinnitus, “Right then! There’s a shipment out of Hammerfell that we should inspect! It arrived with zero tariffs! Very suspicious.”</p><p>“Incredibly.”</p><p>Eminwe took his arm and dragged him to a warehouse. There were an odd amount of poorly-dressed Khajiit skulking about. Eminwe ran to some crates and began tearing through them.</p><p>“Uh… huh.” Vakarion flagged one of the Khajiit down, “You haven’t seen anything suspicious or-“</p><p>The Khajiit looked offended that Vakarion would dare talk to him. He hissed and left.</p><p>“Right. What about you?” Vakarion approached a very short Khajiit holding a regular-shaped cat, “Anything out-of-the-ordinary?”</p><p>“…what’s it worth to you?” the regular-shaped cat asked.</p><p>Vakarion blinked. <em>Roll with it.</em> “Uh. Do you like banquets?”</p><p>“Does the unreasonably tall one suggest he can get Amizi and her sister into the pretty Queen’s party?” Amizi jumped down from the arms of the other Khajiit.</p><p>“Yes. He does.” Vakarion put his hands on his hips, “I don’t see why not, I figured it was open-invitation anyway.”</p><p>Amizi laughed, it was unsettling, cats should not laugh, “Naive AND giant! An unfortunate combination! No. Celebrations typically do not allow the participation of those such as Amizi and Jhazi.”</p><p>“Why? Is it because you’re..?”</p><p>“Poor. Yes.” Amizi nodded.</p><p>“That was definitely my first guess. Have you tried walking around until someone ropes you into a scheme? I do it and I’ve been fed and given places to sleep.”</p><p>“Amizi asks that the tall one crouch down.”</p><p>“Alright, why-“ Vakarion did so and received a tiny slap from a tiny paw, “…point taken. Anyway, have you seen any Altmer in here looking evil and racist?”</p><p>“…Khajiit wishes to slap you again, but she will not for two reasons.” She turned, tail pointed upwards, “Firstly, she believes the tall one is truly naive and not purposefully trying to get Amizi’s goat.”</p><p>“You can’t prove that, but continue.”</p><p>“Secondly…” Amizi looked over her shoulder, “She <em>has </em>seen some unusual things. Tall ones in cloaks speaking to amulets. They ignore Khajiit at best, spit on them at worst. If you look within the bag next to the crates your crazy friend digs through… you will find tiny bottles. They smell of vile things.”</p><p>Amizi lifted a paw to point at Jhazi, “That did not, however, stop Amizi’s very brave, very stupid sister from trying to drink some.”</p><p>“They’re pretty.” Jhazi shrugged.</p><p>“Great! Thanks for the help!” Vakarion stood.</p><p>“The tall one will honor our agreement?”</p><p>“Of course?” Vakarion picked up the bag, “Meet me by the stairs closest to that weird awning with the blue fire in the center on a pedestal. Or if you see a Khajiit in black armor with red hair, tell him Vakarion sent you. Just don’t drink any of the wine when you get inside.”</p><p>“Lovely! Though remember that Amizi will claw Vakarion’s eyes out if he flakes on her.”</p><p>“I will keep that in mind.” He pulled a bottle from the bag, opened it, and sniffed it. It smelled caustic. He made a face, paused, and sniffed it again. He had to be sure.</p><p>“Jhazi! Come with your sister. She will remove the mats from her terrible, terrible fur!” Amizi strolled off, Jhazi in tow.</p><p>Vakarion poked Eminwe, who was half in a crate, “I found some poison.”</p><p>“EXCELLENT WORK!” Eminwe fell backwards out of the crate. She was covered in various spices. “Nothing particularly heinous in there… unless you hate turmeric.”</p><p>“I’m… ambivalent towards that. I think.” He swished the liquid around, “What do you want me to do with..?”</p><p>“Turn it into a guard, obviously!”</p><p>“…I don’t know magic.”</p><p>“I said ‘in to’, not ‘into’.” Eminwe slapped him lightly on the arm, “Better yet… take it to Astanya directly! She’ll be able to sort this out!”</p><p>“Are… you certain?”</p><p>“Just because she hates the Queen doesn’t mean that she’s <em>evil</em>!” Eminwe crossed her arms, “If you won’t… then I will!”</p><p>“Uh. No, I think I can manage it.” Vakarion said, a well of unforeseen dread building in his stomach, “What’ll you do?”</p><p>“Keep searching for clues! Obviously!”</p><p>“That is a fantastic idea. You should <em>definitely </em>stay down here and away from the party.” Vakarion said seriously, “You never know what… evil could be lurking in these boxes. We need someone to hold this front.”</p><p>“You are absolutely correct!” Eminwe walked to a barrel and opened it. Pickles. “Off with you, then! Give the captain my best wishes!”</p><p>“I’ll do that!” Vakarion left the warehouse, holding the bottle high, watching how the light refracted through it. His pupils were slightly dilated.</p><p>He heard the sound of two people hastily entering a bush, but shrugged it off.</p><p> </p><p>Syndiel found Astanya behind the chapel, overseeing the replacement of a recently-broken window. He tapped her shoulder and gestured towards a tree. She followed him behind it.</p><p>“Someone took the poison.” Syndiel wheezed, out of breath.</p><p>“What? It’s been maybe five minutes! How did-“ Astanya ran a hand down her face, “Where’s Norion.”</p><p>“He said he was going to Tanzelwil and… something about a ‘plan B’.”</p><p>“Fine. At least this way I’ll get the pleasure of killing that bitch with my own blade… You’re to wait in the crowd, when the Queen walks out onto the balcony to give her speech, we strike.”</p><p>“That’s a rather… large jump from plan A to plan B. Maybe you shouldn’t-“ Syndiel raised a hand.</p><p>“Excuse me?” She stared down at him, “You are in no position to question me, <em>recruit.</em>”</p><p>“…excuse me.” Syndiel stood upright, “But I’m not <em>questioning </em>you. I’m <em>telling </em>you that this is a bad-“</p><p>Astanya struck him across the face, “Do as you’re told. No more. No less.”</p><p>Syndiel nodded quietly, holding a hand to his face.</p><p>“Good.” Astanya walked to the manor across from the chapel. She reached the door when Vakarion strolled up to her.</p><p>“Hi.” Vakarion threw the bottle to her, “Poison.”</p><p>She blinked. She looked from him, to the bottle, to him again. Then, deciding she could use a fall-guy and a stress reliever… tackled him. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy and possession of contraband!”</p><p>“Oh no… what a horrible twist of fate!” Vakarion raised a hand dramatically, “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”</p><p>Astanya waved more guards over. One knocked Vakarion over the head and he was dragged off to prison. Syndiel watched the whole thing with a palm placed directly upon his face.</p><p>Astanya looked down at the poison vial in her hand. Plan A was viable. She stepped into the manor, thinking. She looked around, and stuffed the bag into a pot. Plan B was much more her style anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Vakarion woke up in a cell with the lukewarm body of a High Elf in black armor. Razum-dar was standing on the other side of the bars, rubbing a temple.</p><p>“Does Raz even need to ask?”</p><p>“I figured out who’s behind the assassination. You know. Probably.” Vakarion stood, eyeballing the body. It wasn’t <em>too </em>hot in here, but…</p><p>“Oh? How and who?”</p><p>“Watch Captain Astanya. I pressed some buttons, she reacted to them being pushed in a very ‘I would like to murder the Queen’ way, was standing near a marked cask, then arrested me when I gave her the poison I found which was most likely supposed to go into the wine with the mark.”</p><p>“…Raz has several points to raise.”</p><p>“Raise ‘em.”</p><p>“Are you certain you were not simply annoying her? She has a… short fuse.” Razum-dar pointed at him, “And are you sure that the mark did not just denote a different type of wine?”</p><p>“I mean… I can’t be SURE until she and the Veiled Haritonce <em>do </em>something, but-“</p><p>“No. It is not her. Raz has known Astanya many, many years. She is no traitor.” Raz looked past Vakarion to the body, “Though it is not out of the realm of possibility that the conspirators are within the guard, or even nobility.”</p><p>Vakarion pointed back to the body, “Know him?”</p><p>“Raz was looking for him… and stumbled upon you as well. He works- worked from Queen Ayrenn, as I do. We are-“ Raz sighed, “I am an Eye of the Queen. We are Her most trusted agents, keeping to the shadows and doing what needs to be done to ensure the safety of Her and the Dominion.”</p><p>“Those ‘hers’ sounded capitalized.” Vakarion rested a cheek against a bar, “So did <em>you </em>find any leads?”</p><p>Raz glared at him, and unlocked the cell, “Only one. Talk among two guards regarding shooting down a bird when it flies past the sun.”</p><p>“So… Shooting the Queen when she steps out to give her speech?”</p><p>“Precisely.” Razum-dar opened the door, “And as Fasion is dead… I am left with only you to stop it.”</p><p>“How much time do we have?”</p><p>“Ten minutes.”</p><p>“Oh shit.”</p><p>“Again… Precisely.” Raz stepped over and unconscious guard as he walked, beckoning Vakarion to follow, “How good of a shot are you?”</p><p>“I… don’t know!” Vakarion proudly said.</p><p>“…then you will be a meatshield. Do you remember Plan B?”</p><p>Vakarion nodded, “Jump in between the Queen and any arrows.”</p><p>“You will do that if necessary. The two of us will enter the manor from the back.” Raz led him to the manor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I got a root canal and have to wait 2 weeks to get a crown so I'm left with just this big jagged piece of tooth sliding against my tongue and I'm just not having a good time<br/>The procedure itself took over 2 goddamn hours on top of that and it took 5 rounds of anesthetic to get me through it</p><p>On a brighter note, I got a new tablet so now I can draw gooder (my old one is 6 years old)</p>
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